


those you've known

by emkat97



Category: Ocean's (Movies), Ocean's 8, Ocean's Eight
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, F/F, Heist Wives, Hurt/Comfort, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 07:58:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 35,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15068684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emkat97/pseuds/emkat97
Summary: It's not like the movies.It's not like that at all.(aka, Lou gets shot. Debbie falls to pieces.)





	1. all that's known

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TashaVick87](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TashaVick87/gifts).



> trigger warning: guns, blood.
> 
> blame TashaVick87 for leaving a delectable prompt that's left me emotionally ruined.
> 
> comments are always, always, always loved + appreciated!!!

It’s not like the movies.

 

It’s not like that at all.

 

It all happens so fast.

 

It’s not like the movies, where time slows down and you lock eyes with whoever’s in the car. In those movies, you see the look in their eye and while you might not understand what exactly is happening, the history you have with them is all laid out in front of you like shards on the ground, as your eyes shift lower and you see the gun and your stomach drops because you _know_.

 

It’s not like the movies. It’s not like that at all.

 

The Ocean family had their enemies, of course, and to assume that no one would be after Debbie or Danny or their parents at one point or another was unbelievably naïve, reckless, shortsighted, and frankly, stupid. Debbie had hundreds of flashbulb memories of moving around as a kid, never understanding why until she was around ten or so. She hadn’t truly grasped what it meant to be an Ocean until she was crying in the car on the way out of San Francisco. So many tears, all because she was missing her friend’s birthday party. Danny tried to keep her quiet in the backseat, and explained with a sigh that they had to leave, that they didn’t have a choice, that someone had put out a hit on their dad. This, of course, made Debbie cry even harder as a million questions swarmed through her mind, and Danny ran a hand through his hair, sliding his other arm around his little sister. “This is our normal, kid. Get used to it.”

 

Debbie still wasn’t sure how she had avoided certain death for all these years, but whatever good fortune she had was certainly not smiling on her in this particular moment.

 

It had been a typical Saturday night, or as typical as a Saturday night can get when you’re surrounded by six of your best friends and roughly 250 million dollars between all of you. It had been almost two years to the day since the Met, and while Debbie, Lou, Amita, Constance, Nine-Ball, Tammy, and Rose had certainly been spending their money, it was proving to be remarkably frugal to get together every weekend to get food, watch a movie, shoot the shit, what have you. Debbie was starting to understand why Daphne had decided to join them in the first place; it was nice to have real friends.

 

And, of course, an incredible partner.

 

Calling Lou her _girlfriend_ still felt incredibly foreign on Debbie’s tongue. She couldn’t call her _wife_ (at least not yet). No, _partner_ was the only word that would ever be able to describe their relationship, solely because it encompassed everything that they truly were at their very core. They’d been officially together for about a year and a half, but even Debbie and Lou would admit in the quiet moments that they’d been in it for the long haul _long_ before Deb was thrown in prison. It had taken a hell of a lot of hard work to get to where they were now, and they’d be damned if they let anything tear them apart. As they walked out of the sushi place and into the warm spring night air, Lou wrapped her jacket around Debbie’s shoulders as Debbie intertwined their fingers. Exchanging one of their “pining lesbians” looks (as Constance liked to call them), they smiled and waited for the rest of the crew to join them.

 

Tammy was the first out the door, running a hand through her hair, tapping her foot impatiently against the pavement, sighing shakily into her cellphone. “ _No_ , sweetheart, Santa is...Santa is _definitely real._ I promise.” Looking back at Lou and Debbie with wide eyes, she shook her head desperately, the universal sign of _I don’t know how to handle this situation_. Debbie and Lou just shrugged, to which Tammy rolled her eyes and turned back around. “Put your father on the phone,” she grumbled.

 

Rose was next, also glued to her phone, Daphne frozen on the screen staring back at her. As Rose tapped at the phone desperately, whimpering, Debbie and Lou could hear Daphne snap her gum and say, “Am I frozen? I’m frozen, aren’t I? _God_ , you all must be at the _only_ restaurant in the city with shitty reception!” As she finished the sentence, her face reappeared onscreen and Rose breathed a very audible sigh of relief.

 

“Good, you’re back! And truly, darling, I don’t understand what you don’t like about it, you look _fabulous!_ ” Turning around to face Deb and Lou and holding the phone out, Rose continued, “see, doesn’t Daphne look _lovely_?”, her eyes begging for agreement.

 

“Gorgeous, Daph,” insisted Debbie.

 

“Never better, sweetheart,” Lou called out reassuringly.

 

Daphne’s eyes bulged as her breath caught in her throat. “ _YOU DIDN’T EVEN LOOK!!!_ And don’t think I’m going to just _forget_ about you all hanging out while I’m so _conveniently_ on a shoot! _”_

Amita, Constance, and Nine-Ball exited the restaurant at that point, and not a moment too soon.

 

“So wait...explain it to me one more time?” Amita crinkled her nose.

 

Constance jumped in front of her, shifting her weight from foot to foot in some sort of little dance that made her look like she had to pee. “ _Okay_ , for the _last time_. You say it when something’s like, really fuckin’ cool and shocking in like a _good_ way and you don’t have any other words. You’re so shook so you’re like, wow, my wig is snatched.” She took a breath. “Get it?”

 

“But I’m not _wearing a wig_...”

 

“Amita, that’s not the _point_ – ”

 

Nine-Ball rolled her eyes and turned to Lou and Debbie. “They’ve been talking about this for literally 25 minutes.”

 

As the group started walking back to the loft, discussing which cheesy rom-com they’d be watching that night, Debbie stared up at the stars, enjoying the closeness of the woman next to her, thinking, always thinking. Which, of course, Lou was able to pick up on in less than ten seconds.

 

“Hey,” she whispered, squeezing Debbie’s hand. “I’m too tired and too drunk to be thinking about _anything_ right now. You should be too.”

 

“Not thinking.”

 

“Planning, then.”

 

Debbie chuckled and turned her gaze towards the rest of the group in front of them, huddled at the corner waiting for the light to turn. The further they got from the relatively secluded restaurant, the more and more crowded the streets of New York became.

 

Lou bit her lip as she stared at her girlfriend, narrowing her eyes, trying to figure her out. “So that’s it? What’s the job?”

 

Debbie tilted her head. “No job yet.”

 

“Now _that_ I don’t believe.”

 

“I mean it. There hasn’t been a job in almost a year. You know that.”

 

The walk sign glowed bright white against the navy sky.

 

“Yeah,” Lou started. “I do know that. I also know that you’ve been restless lately.” This was true. Debbie had been making a real effort to stay out of trouble, for reasons she wasn’t quite sure of, relying solely on Constance’s turnover in pickpocketed watches to give her that old thrill she was so familiar with. If you asked Tammy (and honestly, you probably wouldn’t, because no one _ever_ bothered to ask Tammy anything even though she knew both Debbie and Lou on a level that no one else on the crew would ever come close to), she’d tell you that Debbie was holding back because the job was too big or not big enough, and she didn’t want to put any of her newfound friendships in jeopardy. Debbie would never admit it, but her love for all of them ran deep.

 

But who knows? Maybe it was Lou. Maybe Debbie was finding the simple life more appealing than she initially thought it would be. Maybe she was enjoying curling up in bed with a good book and a cup of tea at the end of a long day, Lou beside her, planting kisses on cheeks and running fingers through hair.

 

Maybe this was a different kind of life she’d never had to navigate before, and she was finding it more difficult than she had imagined.

 

“Lou, there’s no job. If there were, you’d be the first to know. Always.”

 

“Awwww, sweetheart, I’m _special._ ”

 

“If you say so,” Debbie rolled her eyes before placing a chaste kiss at the corner of Lou’s mouth, resulting in a shy smile spilling over Lou’s face. “Believe whatever you want, honey.”

 

“Can you two chill for like, one minute? We just ate.” Constance’s voice rose above the noise of the crowds as Lou and Debbie glanced up to find their entire crew staring at them. The group continued walking, passing another couple holding hands, one half of said couple locking eyes with Debbie and smiling knowingly.

 

Rose nodded towards Lou. “ _You,_ my dear, are positively _blushing.”_

 

Lou brushed her bangs out of her line of sight.  “I don’t blush.”

 

Rose giggled. “Not unless you’re with Deb.”

 

Lou sighed dramatically in faux annoyance and shook her head, but only pulled Debbie closer.

 

All seven continued that way down the block, expertly maneuvering the busy streets on high, high heels, laughing, tipsy, enjoying each other’s company. Perhaps if they hadn’t been so distracted by one another, they might have noticed the black SUV that had been circling the block. Waiting? Debbie would never know. But as the car sped up and the bullets started flying, people started hitting the ground and the loud _thwack_ of metal hitting muscle and bone permeated the air.

 

It had to have taken ten seconds, tops. But as she looked around, her breath caught in her throat and Debbie saw half of that sweet, beautiful couple staring back at her with open, empty eyes. His girlfriend was desperately shaking his arm, rocking back and forth.

 

It had been a head shot.

 

_Jesus._

She could hear a little girl somewhere in front of them screaming for her mother. Those on the other side of the street who hadn’t fled were on their phones, taking video, some thankfully calling for help. A man who looked to be in his early thirties darted across the street, pulling off his jacket, ready to help wherever he was needed.

 

And he runs over to Constance.

 

Debbie’s vision had been blurred and now, finally coming back down to Earth, she sees Constance shaking and screaming, clutching her arm, blood seeping between her fingers. The man wraps his jacket tight around the wound and tries to calm her down, asking her name, but she is inconsolable.

 

Nine-Ball is okay as far as Debbie can tell, but she’s crawled out into the middle of the street in a shoddy attempt to see the license plate, if there even was one in the first place. She looks defeated for a second, then turns back and looks at Debbie with wild eyes, mouth agape, shaking her head in disbelief.

 

Amita is crying, leaning up against a mailbox, trying to explain the situation to Daphne, who had still been on Rose’s FaceTime during the whole ordeal. Rose is huddled next to her, blood spatter coating her glasses and her bottom lip trembling, and Tammy is in Debbie’s face all of a sudden, grabbing at her hands, examining her. Forever the mom of the group, Tammy is running her hands over Debbie’s shoulders, face, hair, asking “ _are you okay? Are you okay?_ ” but Debbie can’t say anything and Debbie can’t hear anything over the ringing of her ears and all of a sudden she realizes that she’s no longer holding Lou’s hand and that Lou is on the ground and that Lou is not moving.

 

_Lou is not moving._

Lou, who Debbie had seen literally curb-stomp a man on two separate occasions.

 

Lou, whose formidable aura was topped only by her insane wit and charisma.

 

Lou, who was the only one Debbie had ever watched sleep.

 

_Is_

_Not_

_Moving._

It’s not like the movies.

 

It’s not like that at all.

 

Because if it were, Debbie would be on her knees in the blood that was swiftly pooling around Lou’s body, cradling her head in her hands, pulling her to her chest, pressing kisses into her hair, praying to whatever deity was listening that it would be okay.

 

But this wasn’t a movie, and Debbie was frozen.

 

For reasons unknown, Debbie’s fight or flight had refused to kick in and she was left an empty shell, staring down at her partner on the sidewalk.

 

_Where was the goddamn ambulance?_

 

Debbie hadn’t even been shot, and yet she still saw her life flash before her eyes.

 

She saw herself, at age twelve, holding a gun for the first time, aiming towards the target at the shooting range. After one round, she had decided that it was much more power than she ever wanted to be responsible for. She never touched a gun again, and certainly didn’t involve them in her jobs.

 

She saw Danny and Tess on their wedding day, how happy they both looked, how intimate their first dance was.

 

She saw Lou, just last week, clad in her stupid silk bomber jacket that Debbie hated but simultaneously adored because of how good it looked on her. She heard her laughing that laugh that was reserved only for Debbie, loud and obnoxious, causing crow’s feet to appear at the corners of her eyes. She could smell her perfume and taste the spearmint gum she chewed and _God_ , if Debbie experienced any more sensations that reminded her of Lou, she might just pass out.

 

Tammy is desperately trying to stop the bleeding, and the man who was helping Constance moves to assist Tammy, attempting to do chest compressions that to Debbie looked like they were doing more harm than good. Debbie wanted to reach out, wanted him to _stop hurting her_ , but she had to remind herself that she wasn’t used to kindness from strangers, that’s all it was, and this... this was next-level.

 

Moving Lou as little as possible, the man says that although she’s unconscious, she’s still got a pulse. Tammy looks like she’s going to start bawling at any moment, because it’s _bad_. Only one bullet wound, but it’s in the abdomen, and Lou’s losing a lot of blood. As Tammy moves to try and plug the hole, she catches Debbie’s eye. So much despair, so much hopelessness in one look. Still, there was something there, a determined glint that confirmed to Debbie that Tammy was not letting her friend die without either of them putting up one hell of a fight.

 

On the pavement just in front of them, the other four women lean on each other, trying to steady themselves, trying to stop Rose’s panic attack, keeping a close eye on Constance and her arm.

 

Debbie doesn’t know how long it’s been at this point, but she can hear sirens in the distance, and she doesn’t know if she wants to run away from them or toward them because Constance is hurt but she can’t go back to prison but her friends are losing their collective shit but she _seriously_ can’t go back to prison but _Lou is not moving._

She just stays put.

As the paramedics arrive on the scene, Lou and Constance are put in the back of an ambulance and Tammy hurries over to Debbie, shaking all the while. She clasps their hands together.

 

“Deb, you need to go now. You need to go be with her.”

 

Debbie just stares at the ambulance.

 

“ _Debbie._ ”

 

No response.

 

Tammy gives up and grabs Nine-Ball. “Go with her. She’s in shock. _Go_ , now!”

 

“But what about – ”

 

Tammy waves her off. “We’ll grab an Uber or something. Just _go with her_. She needs one of us.”

 

Nine-Ball nods and, without any further hesitation, whisks Debbie into the back of the ambulance. As they speed off, Nine-Ball motions towards Constance. “You hanging in there?”

 

Constance nods, a little too quickly, unable to take her eyes off Lou.

 

Debbie stares straight ahead, wrapping her arms around Lou’s leather jacket, still warm against Debbie’s bare shoulders.

 

_This isn’t how their story was supposed to end._

 

And although she still can’t say anything, she is unbelievably grateful that Nine-Ball is the one sitting next to her, because at least with Nine-Ball, there would be no false promises, no frivolous declarations of hope, no attempts at comfort, no tears, no bullshit.

 

The last thing Debbie wanted to hear right now was _she’ll be okay. It’ll all be alright._

Because that wasn’t real life.

 

And this wasn’t like the movies.

 

It’s not like that at all.

 


	2. the dark i know well

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hopefully the presence of james corden in this chapter is just like it was in the film - annoying, unnecessary, but surprisingly not awful??
> 
> enjoy, and as always, PLEASE leave comments!! This chapter was a little difficult because I wanted to be as accurate as possible in regards to the medical information, but I tried, even though I'm bound to have fudged it, hence the introduction of Hapless Nurse Eliza. also not sure if i'm a fan of the pacing??? but I DIGRESS, this is yours now.

 

Debbie Ocean hated hospitals.

 

The last time she was in a hospital, she was awaiting blood work results.

 

She and Lou had agreed to scope out a bank for Danny and Rusty, back when they were barely making any money. Danny had promised them a 20% cut of however much money they got; Lou rolled her eyes and protested, but Debbie went along with what her brother said. In retrospect, Debbie knew she should never have accepted only 20%, but she was still figuring this whole crime family thing out, and it’s not like she was in any position to reject the guarantee of easy money. Sometimes Debbie marveled at the piss-poor decisions she made in her early twenties. Lou would have made a much better ringleader.

 

Long story short, Debbie had worn all black on a 90-degree day in the middle of New Mexico like an _idiot_ and wound up sprawled on the cool marble floor of the bank, completely ruining any chance they had of a covert operation.

 

Needless to say, Debbie and Lou did not receive their 20%.

 

The tests came back fine; she had overheated, anyone with eyes and the vaguest knowledge of the human body could have told her that. And when she walked back out into the waiting area, Lou was there, a stupid smirk dancing across her lips. “Last time you scare me like that, okay, babe?” Adjusting the collar of her long trench coat, Lou winked. “Leave the head-to-toe leather to the professional next time.”

 

“I still don’t understand how you aren’t constantly sweating your ass off,” Debbie mumbled, moving towards the receptionist’s desk.

 

“ _Years_ of practice.” Lou watched as Debbie finagled her way into a proper discharge thanks to her alias and some poor sucker’s all-inclusive healthcare plan.

 

As they made their way out the door and down the street, Lou pulled Debbie into an alley and pressed their foreheads together.

 

“Seriously. More careful next time. I don’t like hospitals.”

 

Debbie didn’t like hospitals either.

 

Especially not after tonight.

 

They had been there for at least seven hours at this point. Maybe eight. Debbie and Tammy sat across from each other in the sterile, quiet trauma wing, dried blood marking the gauze on Tammy’s forearm.  In all the chaos, Debbie hadn’t even noticed that Tammy had been grazed by one of the bullets. Rose was perched cross-legged on Debbie’s left, knitting a wool blanket, eyes dark and concentrating. Amita and Nine-Ball sat in chairs at the edge of Constance’s room. The door was open and the curtains pulled back; even though they were a good distance apart from one another, all six women were locked in, thinking about the same things, wishing the same silent wishes.

 

Constance sat at the end of her bed, dangling bare feet off the edge, arm wrapped up, picking at the bracelet around her left wrist. _Nora Whitten,_ it read in tiny black print. It was the first thing Debbie had thought to do once they had all gotten there and Lou had been taken into surgery. Once she had air in her lungs again, Debbie had promptly informed those in charge that Constance was Nora Whitten and Lou was Alison Foster. If the perpetrator did, in fact, have a connection to Debbie as she feared they did, she wanted to keep her crew out of it. _Needed_ to keep them out of it.

 

She owed them that much.

 

Lifting her eyes towards the ceiling, Debbie stared at the bright white fluorescents until she thought she was going blind. She had never been more thankful for peace and quiet. Daphne Kluger was a lot of things, but you could never accuse her of being stingy when it came to providing for the people she cared about. She had somehow gotten an entire wing of Mount Sinai Hospital reserved for the eight of them, and while it was more than a little excessive and insensitive to others– over the phone, Daphne had chirped “ _let’s hope no one else gets shot tonight!”_ – it was a kind gesture that currently meant a lot to Debbie; hell, to _everyone_. They could all use a little bit of kindness right about now.

 

Daphne had told Amita that she would be on the first flight out, fuck the movie, it was Tarantino, no one wanted to work with _Tarantino_ anymore. And in true Daphne form, here she was, high heels clacking sharply against the tile on the floor, dark sunglasses perched on the bridge of her nose even though it was almost 4:30 in the morning. Her fruity perfume filled the air, masking the antiseptic smell of their surroundings.

 

The first thing she did, after dropping her fur stole on the ground, was walk straight up to Debbie and engulf her in a hug. She pulled back for a moment, looking like she wanted to say something, but then decided against it and hugged Debbie again even tighter.

 

After Daphne broke the hug, she went around to everyone else and did the exact same thing, lingering a little longer with Rose, who had started crying again, and ending with Constance, making sure to be careful around her arm. She rifled through her purse for a moment, pulling out something shiny and metallic. “Here. For you.”

 

Constance looked at her like she was insane. “You got me a present...for getting shot.”

 

Daphne rolled her eyes like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “ _No_ , I got you a _present_ because you’re the only one who would _appreciate it._ ” Constance rolled the watch around in her hand as Daphne continued. “It’s Tom Cruise’s,” she said, examining her nails. “Stole it from him myself.” Her smile was strangely proud and triumphant as she walked back over to where Debbie, Tammy, and Rose were sitting, and plopped down next to Tammy.

 

Daphne studied their faces for a while before settling on peering at Debbie, who was distracted, staring at the hand sanitizer dispenser hanging on the wall.

 

“Is she gonna be okay?” Debbie closed her eyes as the words left Daphne’s mouth. She did _not_ want to deal with this right now.

 

Tammy glanced at her out of the corner of her eye. “Who, Lou or Deb?” she asked quietly.

 

Daphne merely shrugged.

 

*

 

As if on cue, a nurse started around the corner, flipping through the chart on her clipboard. She looked young, maybe still in college. Chewing on her lip and eyeing the women staring at her, she spoke timidly. “I’m assuming you’re all here for,” a quick glance at her chart, “Alison Foster?” She looked taken aback as all seven women rose to their feet, nodding frantically. Even Constance was up; she had poked her head out of her room.

 

Daphne blinked slowly. “Who – _ow!_ ” One of Tammy’s elbows landed in her ribs, shutting her up.

 

The nurse, whose name appeared to be Eliza if you were to judge by the embroidering on the breast pocket of her scrubs, took a deep breath. “The good news is that it was a clean shot. Passed through, didn’t hit any vital organs or major arteries, and the surgery itself was successful. We’re transferring her to that room now, and you’ll be able to see her in a few minutes.” She pointed down the hallway with the tip of her pen.

 

“Oh, thank God,” breathed Amita. Debbie narrowed her eyes slightly; for someone spreading “good news”, she sure didn’t sound pleasant.

 

Eliza scribbled something down on the clipboard. “Yes, if it’d been even two centimeters more to the right, we might be having a very different conversation.”

 

“Uh huh. So are you going to tell us the bad news or are you just gonna keep standing there and treat us like a bunch of idiots?”

 

“ _Daphne!_ ”

 

Daphne scoffed. “What?! You don’t just start a sentence with ‘The good news is’ without there being bad news!!”

 

Eliza narrowed her eyes. “Well, now that – wait, Daphne _Kluger_?”

 

Daphne waved her off. “Doesn’t matter. Keep talking.”

 

If Eliza weren’t shaking before, she sure was now. Swallowing hard, she continued. “Well, um, okay.” She sighed. “These medical records, do any of you happen to have a physical copy? They don’t seem to be complete, or at the very least, they’re inaccurate...”

 

“In what way?” Tammy folded her arms across her chest as Debbie glanced at Nine-Ball, who gave her a small shrug in return. Forging documents was easy, but doing it from a burner phone meant that there were bound to be some slip-ups.

 

“Well, for one, do you know if she takes any medication for the seizures?”

 

A hush fell over the group.

 

Tammy was the first to speak, stepping forward, shaking her head a little. “I’m sorry?”

 

“The first one was only a few seconds long, but they came in rather quick succession, after the anesthesia was wearing off. The final one lasted upward of six minutes. That’s – that’s why it’s taken so long to move her into a room. She was fading in and out of consciousness for a while.”

 

“Well, how is she doing now?!” Daphne sounded like she was seriously about to snap.

 

Eliza hesitated; some days she really hated her job. “She’s unresponsive.”

 

Rose whimpered, and for once in her lifetime, Daphne found herself speechless.

 

As the news sunk in, Debbie tore her eyes away from the floor and heard herself say, “She’s epileptic.”

 

Five heads shot toward her as Eliza tapped her pen against her thigh. “How long?”

 

Debbie sighed and shook her head. “I don’t know. Fifteen years, at least? She takes Topamax.”

 

Eliza nodded. “Thank you.”

 

Lou kept her medication on the upper right shelf of her medicine cabinet. Debbie would stand alongside her, brushing her teeth every morning, watching Lou take a tiny pill with water, sometimes with whiskey.

 

The first and only time Debbie actually saw Lou have a seizure, they were in a bingo hall, because _of course_ they were. It was a grand mal seizure, and while the sight of a woman in her twenties convulsing on the floor had caused a bunch of senior citizens to scoot out of the way, one little old lady who had been sitting next to Debbie jumped into action. She gently moved Lou into the middle of the floor, shifting her onto her side. Sliding a tender finger up and down Lou’s stiff forearm, she kept saying, “It’s okay, honey. I know. It’s okay,” whilst keeping a careful eye on the watch on her left wrist.

 

Debbie felt awful; not only had she been proven useless _once again_ when it came to her partner being put in positions of peril, but she had been thinking about snatching that watch at the end of the night.

 

It lasted three minutes, and when Lou came to, dazed, the woman offered to drive Lou and Debbie to the hospital. “Before my Larry passed, God rest his soul, we had a great doctor who was especially helpful on the really bad days...”

 

Lou emphatically shook her head. “No hospitals.” Debbie had forgotten that Lou hated the vulnerability that going to the ER implied almost as much as Debbie did.

 

When they arrived at the motel they were staying at, Lou collapsed into bed almost immediately, while Debbie chose to sit in the lone chair across from the bed, gazing at her.

 

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Lou started, opening one eye to peer at Debbie. “I can handle it. I just – I haven’t exactly had the means to get more meds these past few months, you know? Shit’s expensive.”

 

Debbie kept those words in the back of her mind for years, resolving that Lou would never again have to worry about staying alive, not as long as Deb was around.

 

She thought about Lou every day in prison. She thought about being with her, of course, but it was more than that. She hoped she was healthy. She hoped she was taking care of herself. They were _partners_. Debbie was supposed to be the one person Lou could rely on, and she’d let her down, time and time again.

 

And now, all these years later, feeling Tammy’s penetrating stare in the center of her forehead, the guilt in the pit of her stomach spread like a wildfire until Debbie thought she might just burn up.

 

Lou had forgiven her for so much already. Hopefully, she’d forgive her for this, too.

 

Eliza had hurried off to deliver the news to one of the higher-ups (“Thank God,” muttered Daphne, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more incompetent nurse in my _life_.”), and Tammy turned on her heel.

 

“She’s _epileptic_?”

 

“She would’ve killed me if I told you. She doesn’t...she sees it as a weakness.”

 

“Yeah, no _shit_ , Deb! It _is_ a weakness! She shouldn’t be doing half the shit she does on these jobs if – wait, why is she running a _club?_ Isn’t that dangerous?” Tammy looked around at the rest of the women, searching for agreement.

 

“I’m not her _keeper_ , Tammy,” spat Debbie. “I don’t tell her what she can or can’t do. I mean, you know her! It’s not like she’d listen to me anyway!”

 

“No, Deb, I think she _would._ And that’s the problem. She’d follow you to the ends of the earth, and...” Tammy trailed off. “It’s literally going to be the death of her.”

 

The slap was so loud and so crisp that Rose’s knitting needles clattered to the floor.

 

Clutching her hand to her cheek, Tammy didn’t bother to hide her tears as they spilled hot and steady down her face. “Debbie, I know you’re terrified. We all are. But you’ve got to start being more careful. She’s in a _coma,_ for God’s sake! And I’m not saying that you have to stop the jobs. That’s _your_ decision. Just remember that you’re not the only one in this anymore.” Glancing around at the rest of the crew, she pulled a handkerchief out of her purse and began dabbing at her face. “I’m going home. I have to...I have to hug my kids.”

 

Before making her way to the elevators, Tammy sighed and squeezed Debbie’s hand. “I’ll see you in the morning. Text me if anything changes.”

 

Eliza’s voice broke through the silence, and Debbie wondered how much she’d overheard. “I’m sorry if this is a bad time...but you can come see her if you’d like.”

 

*

 

Standing at the edge of the room, there was silence.

 

Amita had taken one step in before her face crumpled. “I can’t, I just can’t,” she sobbed, as she hurried back to Constance’s room.

 

Only four remained.

 

Nine-Ball was the first to speak. “She looks so tiny.”

 

If they had been in any other situation, Debbie would have chortled at the remark. No one would ever dare use that word to describe someone as awesomely daunting as Lou.

 

But now, seeing her partner laid up in what could hardly constitute a comfortable position, tubes in her mouth, tubes _everywhere_ , pale as a sheet, looking thinner than ever, all Debbie could do was nod in agreement.

 

More silence.

 

Rose entered the room and pulled a chair over so that she was sitting right next to the bed. She brushed a piece of Lou’s hair out of her face, gently touching her cheek. She let her hand linger for a second and then cleared her throat, folding the tiny wool blanket over Lou’s lap. Giving the blanket a pat, Rose stood up and wordlessly exited, Daphne following close behind, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

 

Debbie heard Nine-Ball behind her. “You okay?”

 

“Never better,” Debbie replied, voice dangerously high.

 

“You need me, you call, okay? We got you.” With that, she went to join the others.

 

Debbie steadied herself and moved towards Lou’s bed. She draped Lou’s jacket around the back of the chair as she sat, crossing her legs.

 

What now?

 

Was she supposed to talk to her? That wasn’t going to get them anywhere. Lou would laugh at her if she knew Debbie was crying and flailing over her body, spouting declarations of love and apologies, so many apologies. She’d probably call her a pussy.

 

_Goddammit, Lou._

This was the quietest Lou had been since Debbie met her, and that was saying something because Lou never had to say much in order to make a lasting impact. She was a creature of solitude, with a beautiful brain, sharp instincts, and a big heart (even though she’d never own up to it), a combination that made her an excellent associate and an even more incredible person to love. Every time Debbie thought she knew everything there was to know about herself, Lou would show up seemingly out of nowhere and provide insight to something Debbie hadn’t even thought about. Lou was truly Debbie’s other half.

 

Maybe that’s why Debbie felt like she was losing a part of herself. Something in her core that was slipping through her fingers, that she knew she wasn’t going to be able to get back.

 

Danny’s death had sent Debbie reeling. And she knew she hadn’t ever properly grieved. Lou had gently reminded her of that about a week after the Toussaint heist. That a job was a piss-poor coping mechanism.

 

They’d stolen over 300 million dollars, and Debbie knew that it was for her, it was for Lou, it was for Amita, it was for all of them, it was for all the years she sat on her hatred for Claude Becker and hatred for who she had been when she was around him.

 

But those last few months, after Danny died? All that money they stole?

 

It was all for him.

 

What would happen if Debbie lost Lou, too?

 

She didn’t want to think about it.

 

She reached out and placed her hand directly over Lou’s, and then proceeded to do something she hadn’t done since she was five years old.

 

Debbie Ocean prayed.

 

*

 

When Debbie finally emerged from Lou’s room, the sun was starting to spill in through the windows, making the hospital wing just a tad more inviting.

 

“Deb, you need to go home,” Amita whispered. As Debbie started to protest, Amita continued. “Don’t torture yourself. I’ll stay with Constance, Nine will stay with Lou. Besides, I think Daphne is going to legitimately implode if she doesn’t get into a real bed soon.”

 

As Debbie, Daphne, and Rose walked out of the hospital and into the early New York morning, Debbie saw a vehicle parked on the other side of the street. A familiar hand gave a half-hearted wave from the driver’s seat.

 

 _Fucking_ John Frazier.

 

As Daphne and Rose hailed a taxi, Debbie said she’d see them at the loft, then stormed across the street, slamming the passenger side door as she got into the car.

 

“You have _wonderful_ timing, John, you know that?”

 

“Came as soon as I heard.”

 

“Really? How long have you been parked out here?”

 

“Just a few hours. Didn’t want to disrupt.”

 

“And yet, here you are, disrupting.”

 

John tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. “Did Danny ever tell you about your father’s involvement with the Delucci crime family?”

 

Debbie blinked.

 

“Ran one of the biggest drug trafficking operations in the late 90’s?”

 

“Yes, John, I know who they are. But our dad wasn’t into that shit. Said it was too risky.”

 

John sighed. “Yeah, well, he was a con, Deb. Maybe he conned you too.”

 

“You sound like a poorly-written soap opera. Why are you telling me this?”

 

“Because,” John said, reaching for a folder on the seat behind him, “this was planned.” Flipping through the pages in the folders, Debbie saw profile upon profile of men and women she grew up around. Her dad’s friends. Their wives. Danny’s teams. Rusty. Linus. Saul. Yen. _Reuben._ If Debbie’s heart could break any more than it already had, she’d be dead.

 

“My best guess is that whoever’s doing this wanted to get to Danny first. Some sort of deep-seated revenge plot against your father, killing the prodigal son being the next best thing. But they couldn’t find him. For obvious reasons,” John eyed Debbie skeptically. “He turn up yet?”

 

“He’s fucking dead, John. As far as I know.”

 

“Well, these idiots don’t think he is. They’re trying to pick you off. And it’s not going to work,” John closed the folder. “Lots of rookie mistakes, I’m assuming these guys are low-ranking. They’ve been using the same vehicle. Not that difficult to track, even without a license plate.”

 

“John.” Debbie’s eyes were closed as she leaned back into the cushion of the car. “It’s been a long night. What are you saying?”

 

“I’m _asking_ what you’re going to do about it.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“These same guys planted a bomb in Linus’ house last night. He wasn’t there, but his wife and daughter barely got out alive.”

 

“Jesus.” Silence. “Wait, when did Linus get _married_?” Oh yeah, Debbie remembered. Five years, eight months, twelve days.

 

“Deb, your partner got shot tonight.”

 

“I’m well aware. But I’m not killing anyone.”

 

“Not asking you to. Just want you to consider your options.” John started the car. “I’m assuming you want a lift?”

 

“What _options_ , John? Kill someone or run? Those are the _only two_?”

 

“Lou’s always been a runner.” Even the sound of her name in someone else’s mouth made Debbie’s stomach drop.

 

“Well, I’m not Lou.”

 

“Yes, your prison sentence proved that.”

 

Debbie could’ve punched him.

 

They rode the rest of the way in silence.

 

*

 

As John pulled up to the apartment, Debbie observed Daphne at the window, staring down at the vehicle quizzically. When she realized who Debbie was with, she ran like hell.

 

Unlocking the car door for her, John said, “If you’re going to do something stupid, let me know _beforehand_ this time, yeah?”

 

Debbie smirked. “Almost sounds like you care.”

 

“Me? I am but a lowly insurance fraud investigator, I would _never_ – ”

 

Debbie shut the door in his face.

 

Rolling down the window, he called out to her, “Keep me updated.” Then he was gone.

 

Finally – _finally –_ walking into her home, Debbie threw her bag onto the couch, almost smacking a sleeping Rose. Daphne was immediately in front of Debbie.

 

“What did he want? Did he see me? Does he know? What the hell is going _on_ – “

 

“No, Daph, he didn’t see you. It’s not important right now.”

 

Daphne pursed her lips. “I highly doubt that.”

 

Ignoring her, Debbie pushed open the door to the room she shared with Lou, curling up immediately on Lou’s side of the bed. She stared at the closet doors that faced her, taking in every detail of the maroon velvet blazer hanging on the outside, drinking in everything that reminded her of Lou. Pressing her face into the pillow and inhaling deeply, she caught notes of Lou’s shampoo, perfume, and the very faint smell of spearmint gum.

 

As much as she wanted to sleep, Debbie knew that wasn’t going to happen. She was too busy thinking – dreaming, really. Dreaming of a life of crime with Lou by her side like a modern-day Bonnie and Clyde, dreaming of a life _without_ crime with Lou and the white picket fence and the 2.5 kids, dreaming of Lou happy and safe and in her arms where she belonged. Debbie was so lost in thought that she didn’t notice Rose standing in the doorway. She didn’t notice Rose come in.

 

Debbie didn’t notice Rose until she felt the bed shift and Rose slid her arms around her waist, softly placing her cheek on Debbie’s shoulder.

 

And maybe it was the closeness, or the comfort, or the mere fact that there was a woman in her bed that was not Lou, but Debbie broke open.

 

There were no tears at first, just deep, guttural sobs and moans. She probably didn’t sound human, but she didn’t care, and neither did Rose, who shushed her and stroked her hair.

 

The pain was all-consuming, and Debbie didn’t know if she was mourning Danny or Lou or who she used to be or all of the above.

 

Debbie was a planner – always had been, always would be.

 

None of this was going according to plan.

 

So she just cried instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it will get better, i promise.
> 
> comments are my lifeline. as always, thanks for reading and if you'd like one (1) hug free of charge, I can deliver that, considering this fic is angsty and I owe you something nice.


	3. and then there were none

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: well, it's been a week! i've detoxed, and i should get back to writing "those you've known"!  
> my brain: hmm. let's see how DIFFICULT i can make that for ya.
> 
>  
> 
> seriously y'all. i was SO stuck for so much of this chapter, so i hope you enjoy! things i'm worried about:  
> \- nine ball being OOC  
> \- too...much...tammy??  
> \- the ending being too abrupt
> 
> BUT IT'S FINE IT'S FINE here you GO, please leave comments!! <3

 

When Debbie woke up roughly six hours later, she found blankets bunched up around her neck, her hair sticking to her face, and Rose gone, having left the door ajar.  She had slept like a log; so heavily that it took her a solid two minutes to remember why she was waking up from a nap in the middle of the afternoon, and why only half of her crew was in the living room instead of the usual seven, and why Lou was nowhere to be found.

 

_Oh._

Wrapping Lou’s favorite silk robe around her and tying it tightly, Debbie made her way out of the bedroom and towards the couch where Tammy, Nine-Ball, and Amita were chatting about one thing or another. They seemed to be laughing; softly, but laughing nonetheless. The laughter immediately ceased when Debbie caught Tammy’s eye. She rose to her feet.

 

“Hey, hon. How are you feeling?”

 

“Where did – ”

 

“We decided to take shifts. They went back about half an hour ago,” Amita piped up from her seat. “Rose said something about wanting to keep adding to her blanket?”

 

Nine-Ball nodded. “That blanket looked comfy as _shit._ I want one for me.”

 

Tammy tilted her head, briefly glancing back at the two women on the couch. “That’s the point, right? To make her comfortable...” Tammy’s words slowed to a stop as she considered the look on Debbie’s face, all misty eyes and lips in a straight line, and she reached up to brush a few pieces of hair away. “Take a breath, Deb. All we can do is wait it out.”

 

Except that wasn’t exactly true, Debbie thought to herself.

 

“ _I’m asking what you’re going to do about it.”_

Even thinking about John’s words made Debbie want to crawl into bed once more and never come out.

 

But she couldn’t do that, because life was still going on even if she didn’t want it to, and she needed there to be an ending to this all this, no matter how painful it might be. If John was right, everything that was happening was happening _fast,_ and if Debbie wanted to strike, she’d have to do it while the iron was hot. She knew Danny’s crew, had them all on speed-dial. All she had to do was press a few buttons, and they’d be on their way.

 

She’d be on her way, and the one person she wanted by her side would still be comatose.

 

Debbie truly wondered what Lou would tell her to do in this situation. What Lou herself would do if Debbie were the one fighting for her life.

 

But then, she already had her answer.

 

Lou wouldn’t have let this happen in the first place.

 

Lou would have sacrificed her life for Debbie’s in a heartbeat. She wouldn’t have even thought twice about it.

 

And if by some twist of fate the roles had been reversed that night and Debbie had been hurt while Lou had been the one staring at her dying partner on the ground, the perps (and, quite possibly, Lou) would have been dead by the end of the night, because Lou would have _lost her goddamn mind_ and let her anger turn into bloodthirsty tunnel vision. Debbie realized the same thing was happening to her, could feel it in her bones. It wasn’t an unfamiliar sensation, but it had never felt this alarming.

 

It was idiotic, but Debbie had never felt more ashamed in her life.

 

“This is my fault.”

 

“Deb, it’s –“

 

“No, Amita, it is.” As Debbie spoke, shaking her head in disbelief, her words came faster and faster. “They were goons, they were trying to kill me, and I did _nothing_. I could have protected her.”

 

Debbie’s voice gave way to sobs, and as Tammy and Nine-Ball tried to settle her and get her off the floor, it occurred to Debbie that this is just who she was now, someone who _cried_. Pathetic.

 

“No, Deb, you _couldn’t._ You couldn’t have done anything. The number of rounds that guy shot off, it’s a miracle that most of us are okay.” Tammy knelt in front of her. “Come on. Let’s get you into the shower. You’ll feel better.”

 

As the scorching hot water poured over her, Debbie was grateful for a small moment of solitude. Or as close to solitude as she could get, what with Tammy sitting directly outside the bathroom, keeping close by in case Debbie needed someone.

 

Debbie knew Lou would have done the same thing. She could see her closing the door with a smug grin on her face.

 

“Don’t drown,” she’d say in that husky voice of hers.

 

Debbie couldn’t help but laugh, and her laughter turned into tears for the third time that day.

 

Coming out of the shower, the loft seemed much quieter than it had even a mere 20 minutes ago. Glancing out the window, Debbie spotted Tammy on the phone, undoubtedly telling her husband she’d be staying in New York for a few more days, and Amita crouching down to pick a few flowers from the garden she’d started.

 

Working a towel through her hair and padding her way towards the kitchen in Lou’s robe and favorite pair of Chanel slippers, Debbie grabbed a bottle of wine and plopped down on the couch next to Nine-Ball, whose fingers flew across her keyboard. Glancing over to see what she was doing, Debbie blinked.

 

“Leslie. You do realize you’re just typing gibberish into Google? And that I can see your other tab?”

 

The blush that crept over Nine-Ball’s face was immediately recognizable as she clicked back to Netflix. “It’s a good show, okay?” she muttered.

 

Debbie smiled for what felt like the first time in days. “Hey, I won’t judge. I watched _Gossip Girl_ too.” She took a swig of wine. “Never finished it though.”

 

“Deb, I need to tell you something.”

 

Nine-Ball’s voice sounded strained and urgent. Debbie put the bottle down.

 

“And I know what you’re gonna say, so hear me out.” She closed her laptop. “You should talk to Lou.”

 

Debbie’s heart fell to her stomach, but she remained still.

 

Nine-Ball continued, seemingly emboldened by Debbie’s lack of a response. “I been reading that they can _hear_ you, even though they’re not awake. And when they wake up, they can remember stuff you told them. It’s crazy shit.” Debbie wasn’t sure how to respond at first.

 

“It’s not that I don’t want to speak to her, but the thing is...” Debbie cleared her throat. No more tears today. “The thing is, I’m trying to prepare myself for her _not_ waking up. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t get my hopes up.” Mustering a quick smile, Debbie pressed her fingers to her temple as she propped her elbow on the arm of the couch, staring at the bottle of wine.

 

“Debbie. Look at me.”

 

After a second, Debbie tore her eyes away from the coffee table.

 

“Did I ever tell you about my brother?”

 

Debbie just stared at her. _Brother?_

“His name was Derrick. He was my older brother. He was the one who taught me how to do this,” she said, gesturing to her computer. “He was way smarter than me. I hated that.”

 

“What happened?”

 

“What do you think?” Nine-Ball waited for her to put the pieces together. “He got shot.”

 

_God._

“And I wasn’t there when he died, but V was. It really fucked her up, y’know? But this is the shit we’re _used to_. We grew up in the projects. Constance did too, I think.”

 

Debbie sat listening, and the thought crossed her mind that her crew had been living completely different lives for years before Debbie and Lou stumbled upon them. Suddenly, she wanted to know anything and everything. Nine-Ball’s growing up and raising her sister. Constance and how she learned to pickpocket. Rose and her love of fashion. Even Tammy’s husband and kids. Debbie just wanted to learn.

 

“I know you and Lou have been through a lot, and I’m not tryna make it sound like I’ve lost more than you or whatever. Cause that ain’t true. But the drugs, the violence...that’s _our_ world. I’m just sorry you gotta be in it now, too. You don’t need it. Especially not after Danny. You still miss him, right?”

 

Debbie gave her friend a small, sad nod. This was the longest conversation she and Nine-Ball had ever had. Bonding over dead brothers. How absurdly saccharine.

 

“And I would give _anything_ to be able to talk to Derrick again. Like you would with Danny.” She flipped her laptop open again. “So _talk to Lou._ She’s not dead yet. Y’all in love, right?”

 

Without hesitating, Debbie replied, “Of course.”

 

“Still wanna marry her?”

 

“I – wait, now I _know_ I don’t have anything about a wedding in my search history.”

 

“Oh, I know,” Nine-Ball wiggled her eyebrows and pursed her lips.  “It’s just the way you look at her.”

 

Debbie couldn’t help but smile.

 

“And I’m sure she’d love to hear your voice.” As soon as Nine-Ball finished her sentence, the door to the loft opened and Tammy walked back in. “Don’t be a dumbass.” Nine-Ball gave Debbie one final knowing glance and turned her attention back to her computer.

 

As Tammy strode towards the two women, Debbie rose to meet her.

 

“You haven’t seen her yet, have you?”

 

Tammy tilted her head quizzically. “I haven’t.”

 

Debbie grabbed the bottle of wine and slid it into her purse, a glint in her eye.

 

“Then what are we waiting for?”

 

*

 

Much to Debbie’s shock and chagrin, there were rules about bringing giant bottles of merlot into a hospital – specifically, that you weren’t allowed to.

 

“Leave it,” Tammy had sighed, gesturing to the ground beneath a giant potted plant. “I’m sure Daphne will pick it up when they leave.” When Debbie started to protest, Tammy continued. “ _No_ , I will _not_ try to hide it in my sweater. That only worked _once.”_

 

As they rode the elevator in silence, Debbie couldn’t help but feel a tad guilty about the way things with Tammy had transpired the previous night. In retrospect, she really should have told Tammy about Lou’s condition a long, long time ago, back when they were all inseparable. When Tammy was almost as wild and reckless as Lou. Almost.

 

They’d tried to make things work as a trio, initially. Tammy had been a lifelong friend who always seemed to show up in Debbie’s life in the right place and at exactly the right time, and Tammy would say the same thing about her, albeit with a little more apprehension. It’d been a simple proposition, really; Tammy needed money, fast, and Debbie knew how she could get it. All Tammy had to do was maneuver her way into the dean’s good graces (which wouldn’t be difficult, considering that she had one of the highest grade point averages in the history of the University of Florida), get access to the records room and pull a few strings from there. The financial aid was transferred, Tammy got a full-ride and Debbie got to keep a few thousand for herself, as well as the satisfaction of finally, _finally_ pulling a job of her own and meeting someone she felt she could actually rely on.

 

And Tammy was certainly reliable.

 

Of course they had sex; was it even a question? They’d had sex, and for a few months, everything was good. They didn’t put a label on their relationship because there _wasn’t_ a relationship to put a label on. Whatever it was, it was practical and purposeful and just a little off-the-rails, much like Tammy herself.

 

Everything had changed the minute Debbie brought home a slender blonde Australian, days before graduation.

 

Tammy knew immediately that the sex would have to stop. What they had wasn’t built to last, and she was okay with that. Besides, one look at Debbie and even the most skeptical of people would tell you that love at first sight had never been more clearly written on someone’s face.

 

Lou was funny, soulful, everything Debbie could ever want, and everything Tammy would never be.

 

They only did three jobs together before Tammy pulled out. Lou and Debbie would laugh, eyes shining, drinking beer out of plastic cups, and Tammy would laugh along with them, knowing that the closer and closer Lou got, the more Tammy was being inched out. She didn’t resent Lou. She cared for her; behind all the leather and layers of necklaces was a truly phenomenal woman, with kind eyes and a free spirit that Tammy envied. But she knew that it was always going to be Debbie and Lou in the end.

 

So, she took that final initiative. No more petty crime for her.

 

Did she miss it? Sometimes. But did she regret that decision? Never.

 

Because there was Ben.

 

Tammy had met him not long after she started working with Deb, and while she was certainly not the kind of girl to be swept off her feet, he made her come pretty damn close to it. It was a whirlwind romance; no wonder Debbie was so horrified when they’d gotten engaged after six months. Mouth agape, she’d whispered, “Tammy, he wears _bow ties. Un-ironically._ ”

 

And that was just one of the many little things Tammy adored about her husband. He was a good man, a great father, a generous lover. She heard the whispers amongst Debbie’s crew, but she ignored them all. Only _she_ had to worry about whether or not she was happy in her relationship. It was no one’s business but her own. And she _was_ happy. Happier than she thought she’d ever be.

 

That didn’t stop her from getting all the wind knocked out of her and immediately retching upon seeing her friend in a hospital bed.

 

Lifting her head from the garbage can at the edge of the room, Tammy shook her head in disbelief and trembled as Debbie offered her a hand and led her to a chair. Tammy watched in silence as Debbie cautiously approached Lou’s bedside and kissed her forehead. No tears. Debbie clearly meant business. Whatever had happened in the past hour or so had certainly changed her outlook for the better. If only Tammy could say the same for herself.

 

Debbie didn’t speak above a whisper, but Tammy could still hear her clear as day.

 

“Hi, baby. It’s me, it’s Deb. Tammy’s here too. You made her puke.”

 

Dabbing at the corners of her mouth, Tammy scoffed. “You’re unbelievable.”

 

“She’d think it was funny.” Debbie had pulled up another chair, right next to the bed, and was currently unscrewing the top of a bottle of navy blue nail polish that she’d taken from her purse. She tilted her head, briefly, as if to question whether she was allowed to do this or not, and then went ahead anyway, carefully swiping the color across Lou’s fingernails.

 

Tammy looked on in awe. It always stunned her to see the tenderness and care that Debbie and Lou displayed when it came to the way they treated each another. It was a level of intimacy that was so unbelievably rare, the way they were able to immediately make any space their own little oasis. While Constance and Daphne would tease, Tammy thought it was beautiful.

 

Studying Lou’s face, Tammy sighed. “She...doesn’t look good.”

 

Debbie shrugged. “She looked worse earlier.”

 

“Really?”

 

Debbie nodded. Honestly, she wasn’t sure if Lou looked better or worse, but the initial shock had finally worn off, so Debbie chose to believe that she was seeing improvement, not regression.

 

“You two are really something else.”

 

Debbie tore her eyes away from Lou for a second to give Tammy a puzzled look. “What do you mean?”

 

“In a good way. You just really love each other, that’s all. It’s nice.” Tammy pursed her lips. “Although, I never thought I’d see the day where Deborah Ocean gave up a life of crime. You’re not exactly a fan of settling.”

 

That sent a jolt of electricity up Debbie’s spine. “Sorry?”

 

“Come on, Deb. No jobs in a year? I know we’re all multi-millionaires now, but certainly you’ve thought about pulling _a few_.” Tammy was starting to insinuate, and Debbie didn’t like it.

 

“She’s more important than a job,” Debbie stated simply.

 

“Sure, but –“

 

“Tammy, what are you getting at?”

 

Tammy feigned innocence. “Nothing. Just wondering why _John Frazier_ was waiting outside the hospital last night,” she said, voice growing crisp and pointed, even as she kept it at a low, even tone.

 

_Shit._

 

Debbie had completely forgotten that Tammy had left early. Of _course_ she would have seen him waiting for her.

 

Tammy raised an eyebrow at Debbie’s silence. “You wanna tell me what’s going on?”

 

“Not exactly.”

 

“ _Deb.”_

 

Debbie considered it, knowing that her poker face wouldn’t work on Tammy. It never had. Feeling the weight of Lou’s hand beneath her own, she inhaled sharply. “You can’t tell the others. I don’t want them involved.”

 

Tammy folded her arms across her chest and leaned back in the chair. “Got it.”

 

“Tammy, I’m serious.”

 

“So am I.”

 

Debbie forgot just how similar Tammy and Lou could be when it came to getting what they wanted, both stubborn and prodding, easily up to any challenge Debbie posed for them. They’d laugh if Debbie ever pointed it out, but Debbie knew it was true.

 

And Debbie told her everything. It poured out of her like lava, all the desperate, aching confusion. The more she spoke, the more Debbie realized she knew exactly what she was going to do, for better or for worse.

 

“What do you _mean_ you know exactly what you’re going to do?” Tammy, always the mind-reader, nearly jumped out of her chair. “You’re not killing anyone, that’s for damn sure.”

 

“That’s what I thought too, Tam, but...”

 

“No. No buts. The last thing Lou needs, the last thing _any_ of us needs right now, is for you to pick a fight with the wrong people. This is _dangerous,_ Deb. Don’t you think you should be staying under the radar until this blows over?”

 

“Tammy, I can’t sit here and twiddle my thumbs while there’s someone out there actively trying to murder most of the people I’ve ever trusted. Something has to be done.”

 

“And you’re the one to do it.”

 

“Who else?” Debbie smiled coolly and turned her attention back to Lou and adjusted her nasal cannula, tucking it back behind one of her ears.

 

“Come _on_ , Deb. You’re not this irrational. You’ve never been this reckless. What is it going to take to convince you to _let this go_?”

 

Debbie ignored her.

 

Tammy stood up. “Look at her, Deb. Just look at her.” Crouching next to Debbie, eyes trained on the blonde in the bed, she continued. “She needs you, she needs you _here_ and _safe_ and _alive._ We all do. She wouldn’t want you to do this.”

 

Debbie rubbed her thumb over the back of Lou’s hand as she spoke. “Tammy, what would you do if this was happening to your husband – what’s his name, Ben? Or one of your kids? And don’t bullshit me.”

 

Tammy’s eyes widened. “I...I don’t know.”

 

“What did I _just_ say, Tammy?”

 

Still on the floor, Tammy hung her head, determined to find what she believed to be the right answer. “I would make sure that no one fucking dared to go after my family ever again,” she muttered, uncharacteristically dark for the cardigan-clad blonde.

 

“Exactly. You have your world. I have mine. And don’t tell me that it’s not the same thing, because it is.” Debbie smirked after a brief silence. “Haven’t heard you say ‘fuck’ in a long time, Tim Tam.”

 

Tammy rolled her eyes, staring up at her friend. “This isn’t funny.”

 

“Obviously.”

 

“Lou’s going to kill you when you tell her, if you’re not already dead.”

 

“Which is why I’m planning on her never finding out.”

 

Tammy was up again, pacing around the tiny room. “ _No_. I’m fine with holding out on the girls for a bit, but _not_ the woman you’re about to go _kill for._ You do _not_ get to be selfish right now, Debbie.”

 

“Fuck, Tammy! I’m doing this _for her._ God knows she’d do the same for me.”

 

“Then why hide it?”

 

“Because...” _Because I know you’re right. Because she’d never forgive me. Because my brother is dead and Lou is dying and maybe everyone would be better off if I were dead too. Because, because, because._ “It’s not something she needs to worry about.”

 

Tammy could tell by the determined look on Debbie’s face that this wasn’t a battle she was going to win. “You’ve thought this through?” she asked tentatively.

 

 _No._ “Of course. Always do, don’t I?”

 

Tammy ran the sleeve of Lou’s jacket, still on the back of Debbie’s chair, along her hand. She sighed. “She’s so good to you, Deb. If you need to finish this, finish it. Because if she survives this, she deserves to be happy. Don’t ruin that for her. Don’t make her regret choosing you.”

 

Debbie wondered just how close Lou and Tammy had gotten over the past year, if all the tension had finally been resolved. How much Tammy _knew._

 

Shifting her gaze from Lou back to Tammy, Debbie steadied herself and looked her right in the eye.

 

“I won’t.”

 

*

 

Pulling into the dingy New Jersey rest stop, Debbie threw her black Prada sunglasses into the glove compartment.

 

She was doing it.

 

She was _actually doing it._

It had been two days since her conversation with Tammy and twelve hours since she had called John back, letting him know that everything would be taken care of by the end of the week. She could have left immediately, but she had a few things she wanted to do first; a quick trip to Bergdorf Goodman’s, a stop at a jewelry store, a Target run for groceries to make sure the fridge was stocked for the rest of the girls.

 

She’d went to see Lou again, kissed her gently, told her that the next time she saw Debbie, everything would be different.

 

John had arranged a car for her and called Rusty, who had been doing pretty well for himself in Atlantic City, to let him know of Debbie’s impending arrival. Debbie was more than a little nervous about seeing Rusty again. She didn’t know how he’d been handling Danny’s death. She supposed she’d find out.

 

If he were anything like Debbie, and Debbie knew that he was, he was still fucking reeling.

 

Maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all.

 

But then, it never really was. Debbie knew that. She knew it even as she tried to tell Tammy not to freak out, that everything was going to work out just fine. It wasn’t a _good_ idea, it wasn’t a _solid_ idea, it was just an idea, that developed into a shoddy plan, that Debbie was shitting bricks over like she never had before.

 

She missed Lou.

 

She missed Danny.

 

She wanted them both with her right now, but unfortunately, that could never happen.

 

Dressed in head-to-toe black (Constance had made a joke about _The Matrix_ that Debbie did not take kindly to), Debbie leaned against the meter as she filled up her tank. The woman in front of her had smiled sadly at her when she got out of the car and moved to touch her arm.

 

“Sorry for your loss, dear,” she said.

 

If only she knew.

 

Maybe Debbie _was_ going to a funeral, she thought to herself as she slid into the car and got back on the highway. Probably her own.

 

A quiet _ding!_ from her phone caught her attention. Debbie was used to burners; having a cell phone she could actually use for pleasure was an entirely different ball game. Daphne had been trying to show her how to use Instagram, but why on _Earth_ would a known and convicted felon want an Instagram? Private account be damned.

 

Tammy must have set her phone up so that she didn’t get any notifications while driving. A thoughtful gesture, but Debbie couldn’t have been more furious, and a little shocked, to see the 23 missed text messages and 8 voicemails upon unlocking it, all from the last 45 minutes.

Her stomach immediately dropped. _What had she missed?_

The first voicemail began to play. It was Daphne, sounding incredibly distressed and frazzled. Debbie could see her; red, blotchy cheeks, hair out of place, fanning her face to keep the tears from falling.

 

“ _Deb, I don’t know where the **fuck** you are, but you need to get your ass back here **now.** It’s Lou. Call me when you get this!”_

Debbie felt her heart jump into her throat as she almost slammed into the person in front of her. With shaky hands, she managed to pull over to the side of the road.

 

_Please. No._

 

She wasn’t ready to say goodbye yet.

 

 She pulled up the second voicemail. Tammy.

 

“ _Hey Debbie, it’s Tammy. So Daphne left out a key piece of information,”_ she started, and Debbie could tell she was giving Daphne some of her patented side-eye. “ _Lou’s **awake.** She’s blinking. She squeezed Rose’s hand. And I know you’re sort of... **unavailable** for the time being, but we just wanted you to know!! It’s good news!!”_

Debbie could have sworn that her vision went black for a minute.

 

_It was good news._

The third, from Amita, who sounded like she was going to pass out: “ _HI DEBBIE, okay, so, update. She was only alert for a couple minutes and now she’s out again BUT the doctor said that’s normal. Deb, I am SO EXCITED you have NO IDEA. Get back here!”_

The rest of the voicemails went by in a blur as Debbie laughed and the torrent of tears spilled down her face and onto the steering wheel, leaving her cheeks stained with mascara. From what she could gather, Lou wasn’t moving much, and she wasn’t speaking, but she was _alive_ , and that was all Debbie needed to hear to know what to do next.

 

She pulled herself together and kept driving until she found the closest exit.

 

And Debbie Ocean turned that car the _fuck around._

No doubt in her mind, she was on her way back to Lou Miller.

 

Was she terrified? Of course. Situations change, conditions can be very touch-and-go.

But all of a sudden, for the briefest moment, it didn’t _matter_ what was going to happen in the future.

 

All that mattered was that right now, Lou was okay. Fleetingly, incredibly, gloriously _okay._

Rusty would understand. John would understand. Debbie liked to believe that Danny would understand.

 

She just needed to see Lou, more than anything else. Needed to talk to her, to hold her, to let her know just how loved she was.

 

Lou was awake.

 

And the rest of the world could wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> told ya it'd get better ;)
> 
> ...or will it?
> 
> next chapter will be FUN, y'all.
> 
> as always, comments are my lifeline and i would really, REALLY appreciate your feedback!! You've been so kind so far, and I'm so happy you're loving reading this as much as I'm loving writing it! If you comment, I'll send you one (1) episode of "gossip girl" to watch so you can be as cool as nine-ball.


	4. don't do sadness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess what!! this chapter was supposed to be twice as long as it actually is, but it got to be Too Much so now it's split into two parts!! part two should be coming up in just another day or so!!!
> 
> please leave comments, I LOVE YOU, and I'm so happy you're enjoying this fic.
> 
> (i know i just said i love you, but it deserves a reiteration.)
> 
> (I LOVE YOU)

**_day one_ **

****

Debbie definitely parked in a handicapped spot.

 

Sort of parked.

 

Okay, _maybe_ she jumped the barrier by quite a lot.

 

The car was definitely going to be towed, and Debbie didn’t care less. Not her car, not her problem. Her license was expired, anyway. Lou was the driver of the group, not her.

 

_Lou._

Debbie’s blood rushed to her head and all she could focus on was the sound of her heartbeat, so damn _loud_ in her chest that it drowned out the _ding!_ of the elevator and the sound of Debbie’s heels as she half-walked, half-ran down the hallway.

 

Rounding the corner, Debbie almost slammed into Eliza, who was a lot prettier when she wasn’t delivering awful news. They shared polite smiles, and after Debbie took a deep breath and steadied herself, she walked into the room.

 

And there she was.

 

Lou’s eyes were closed, but she had been propped up a bit, and her cannula was gone. She looked a lot less pale; if she weren’t still hospitalized, Debbie would have thought she was just sleeping in an upright position, which was strange but, knowing Lou, not that much of a surprise.

 

She was still so gorgeous.

 

Debbie wasn’t about to make a fool of herself in front of her entire team, but she had never had the urge to kiss her partner come over her quite so strongly.

 

Amita was the first to look up. She gasped and pulled Debbie into a hug so big that Debbie’s feet actually left the floor.

 

“Where _were_ you?! We were all worried sick!” Debbie couldn’t help but smirk at the way Daphne was looking at her – furrowed brow, hands on her hips. She half-expected Daphne to start wagging a finger in her direction.

 

Debbie glanced at Tammy. “Aren’t _you_ the one with the kids?” She raised her eyebrows at Daphne. “Not a good look for you, Daph.”

 

Daphne huffed. “Bitch.”

 

Rose offered up a smile. “Glad you’re back, love.”

 

“You still haven’t answered me: Where. Were. You?” Daphne was searching for an answer and it was clear she wouldn’t stop until she had one.

 

“I had some errands to run.” It was something like the truth, Debbie decided.

 

“In Jersey? Bullshit.”

 

“Maybe if you didn’t eat so much of that gluten-free crap I wouldn’t have had to cross state lines,” she lied through her teeth.

 

“Um, Deb?” Tammy cut her off, giving Daphne a glare. “Anyone else you want to say hi to?”

 

“Hi!” piped up Constance, literally hopping off her chair to thrust her arm in Debbie’s direction and hand her a Sharpie. “Sign my sling, yo.”

 

Tammy sighed and mumbled under her breath, “Not who I meant, but it’s...it’s fine.”

 

Debbie took the marker and drew a little star next to her name. “I take it you’re feeling better?”

 

Constance shrugged with her free shoulder. “Could be worse. They discharged me this morning. And these pain meds are _straight fire._ ”

 

Debbie wasn’t sure what that meant, but judging by the way Constance was smiling and nodding her head, she assumed it was a good thing.

 

Nine-Ball got up from her seat and pulled the chair over to Debbie.

 

Debbie sat on one side of the bed while Rose sat on the other, still knitting that blanket. It was about two thirds the length of the bed at this point, heavy, wool, all different colors. Debbie was thoroughly impressed; Rose must have been knitting non-stop, fueled by her anxiety.

 

“I heard she squeezed your hand?”

 

Rose giggled absentmindedly. “She did. Although,” she eyed Debbie over the top of her glasses, “I’m sure she’d much rather be squeezing yours, dear.”

 

Debbie smiled, not really giving a shit about the group staring at her. They had already seen her at her most vulnerable these past few days, and that was the most they were ever going to get. “That’s certainly the goal, isn’t it?” She turned her head towards Lou and gave her cheek a kiss. “Hi, baby,” she whispered. “I’m back.”

 

“Let’s give her some space, yeah?” Tammy clapped her hands as she stood up abruptly. “Come on,” she insisted, waving her hands towards the door. “Out, out.”

 

As the women filed out, one-by-one, Debbie watched quietly, before calling out, “Hey, Constance?”

 

“What up?”

 

Debbie nodded towards her arm. “Glad you’re okay.”

 

Constance grinned. “Me too,” she said, in a voice so sincere Debbie would’ve sworn it belonged to someone else – certainly not to someone as brash and cocky as Constance. “Thanks, Deb.”

 

When everyone but Tammy had gone back to the waiting area, she turned to Debbie.

 

“So.” Tammy lowered her voice. “Those _errands_ you ran. Got everything done you needed to?”

 

“Stop talking in code, Tim Tam. You’re better than that.”

 

Tammy rolled her eyes. “Fine. But that’s not an answer.” Leaning against the doorway, she narrowed her eyes. “It’s over?”

 

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

 

“Yeah. And if I know _anything_ about you, it’s that _that_ doesn’t really mean a thing.”

 

Debbie shrugged, and Tammy sighed as Daphne called out from the waiting room, “Tammy! Come on, leave the lesbians _alone.”_

 

“Glad you’re safe, Deb,” Tammy tossed over her shoulder as she joined the others. They had busted out laughing at Daphne’s comment and Constance decided to join in on the goading: “Yeah, Tam, let them be gay in peace!” Amita followed with a quick “What kind of friend _are_ you?”

 

Debbie looked up at the ceiling as she shook her head, then chuckled and turned to Lou. “I know we adopted them a while back, but is it too late to get a refund? Maybe exchange them for a nice European vacation? Tahitian spa retreat?”

 

It was a bad joke, and Lou would have told her that if she could.

 

Debbie pressed her thumb into Lou’s palm and ran her fingers along the back of her hand. Somehow, the nail polish Debbie had applied just a few days ago had started chipping.

 

“You know, I’d really appreciate it if you just _coughed_ or something. I almost killed for you. _Almost._ Don’t lecture me.”

 

This was it, wasn’t it? This is how Debbie Ocean spent her final moments of sanity before she lost her goddamn mind forever.

 

“They’re not dead. Yet. But don’t go getting any ideas.” She paused. “You know you’re not going to be able to ride your bike for at least a year, right?”

 

Debbie was glad Lou was passed out for that particular sad truth. The last time she had to give up her bike that Debbie knew of was the last time she had a seizure, and if Lou were irritable on a good day, she was ten times worse when it simply wasn’t possible to pack up and go wherever she pleased.

 

She had managed to stay off her bike for almost two months after the bingo hall seizure, but had gone out against her better judgment one Wednesday night in September, returning an hour later in a panic because “something didn’t feel right”. Lou didn’t scare easily – she did whatever she had to do and saved the fear for some other day. But that night, Debbie could tell she was terrified.

 

Lou had gone straight to bed and, despite a few longing looks now and then, she didn’t touch her motorcycle for another eleven months.

 

Now, Debbie just hoped Lou would be able to _move_ , let alone ride that stupid bike.

 

“Okay, Lou. Any time now.” Debbie leaned back in her chair. “Wake up.”

 

She knew she sounded completely, utterly daft – thank _God_ the girls had moved far enough away that they were out of earshot – but Nine-Ball was right, it was oddly comforting to talk to Lou like she normally would. It also made her realize that their version of “normal” was very, very different, to say the least.

 

“I love you,” she sighed. “I love you so much, and I _need_ you because I am _losing it,_ baby. And I’m really trying to make this better but I don’t think I know how.” Debbie’s voice cracked. “Tell me what to do. You’re really good at that.”

 

After a few more seconds of silence, she sniffed, wiped away a stray tear and nodded her head. “Maybe not today then, right? But soon.”

 

She glanced at her purse on the floor.

 

“There’s something I need to ask you.”

 

*

 

**_day two_ **

 

“You’re the girlfriend?”

 

Debbie jumped as Eliza watched her from the doorway. The clock on the wall read 9:23.

 

“The others talk,” she continued, entering the room and moving to the other side of Lou’s bed to adjust a few tubes. “Usually pretty loudly.” She smiled. “I overheard a few things. Oh, I’m sorry. This is overstepping, isn’t it? My supervisor told me that I have a tendency of sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong. Thank God I still have my job.”

 

“It’s...fine,” Debbie started, eyeing her up, before letting out a loud yawn. “Yes, I’m...her girlfriend. Where did everyone go?”

 

“I think the short one said something about wanting some IHOP.”

 

Debbie wasn’t sure if she was referring to Constance or Rose or Amita. They all had an affinity for pancakes, as Debbie found out the hard way after burning breakfast one Sunday a few months ago. Amita had cried.

 

“I’m sorry, it’s _morning_?”

 

Eliza peered at her curiously. “Yes...you fell asleep. I was going to wake you up but Daphne Kluger insisted I leave you alone.” She moved towards the window, drawing the blinds, morning light illuminating the room, making it feel slightly less small. “You have quite the eclectic group of friends.”

 

“Yeah. We do.”

 

“Anyway, no need to worry. You didn’t miss anything while you were asleep.” Eliza flipped a page on her clipboard. “Her vitals are stable, her breathing is normal. Heart rate increasing slowly but surely, and...oh!” Eliza stopped.

 

“What?” Debbie turned from Eliza to Lou and _oh_ was right.

 

Lou was watching her, steely blue eyes staring into Debbie’s, lips moving ever so slightly, trying to formulate something that wasn’t coming out.

 

Debbie could feel the tears welling up as her breath hitched. Running a finger along Lou’s cheekbone, she smiled a watery smile. “Hey.”

 

Something close to Lou’s smile appeared on her face.

 

“Hey,” Debbie said again, openly weeping at this point. She grabbed Lou’s hand, kissing it lightly, never breaking the eye contact. “I’m so happy to see you.”

 

“Deb.”

 

Her voice was hoarse, a little bit absent, but it was Lou nonetheless. If Debbie weren’t sobbing before, she sure as hell was now.

 

“Yeah, baby. It’s me. It’s me.” Debbie leaned in and pressed her forehead to her partner’s. “I’m here.”

 

Lou’s eyes darted back and forth between Debbie’s eyes and Debbie’s lips, and Debbie giggled like a kid in a candy store. “Alright. Calm down,” Debbie teased before gently cupping Lou’s chin with her fingers and pressing their lips together.

 

 _God,_ she loved this woman.

 

Lou lingered a bit, eyes closed, when Debbie pulled away. When her eyes fluttered open, she grinned that Cheshire Cat smile that Debbie missed so much.

 

A soft clearing of the throat from the other side of the room brought the couple out of their trance.

 

Debbie had completely forgotten that Eliza was still there.

 

Lou laughed – a full, shoulder-shaking belly laugh that ended in her coughing and wincing in pain.

 

“Hey. You’re okay,” Debbie touched Lou’s forearm. “I’m not going anywhere.”

 

Even as her brow furrowed in concern, Lou seemed to take comfort in Debbie’s words. She reached across the blanket with her other arm to cover Debbie’s hand with her own, eyes twinkling.

 

“That was more movement in the past two minutes than she showed all day yesterday. She’s improving faster than a lot of patients I’ve seen come through here, period, and that’s no small feat.” Eliza wrote something down before shooting Lou a smile. “You’re very strong.”

 

Eliza adjusted her glasses and moved towards the door. “If either of you needs anything, the call button is on the railing right there. Also,” she lowered her voice, “You two are the _cutest couple_ I’ve ever seen.”

 

After Eliza left, Debbie turned to face Lou once more. “We’re _cute._ ”

 

Lou rolled her eyes.

 

By the time the crew returned (with chocolate chip pancakes for Debbie), Lou had fallen asleep, and when Tammy walked in to deliver the pancakes, she gave Debbie a knowing smile.

 

“You look smitten.”

 

Debbie smirked. “Oh please.”

 

“Was she up at all?”

 

“Half hour, maybe. Moved around a bit. Said my name.”

 

Tammy grinned. “That’s great, Deb. Although, if I were you, I’d wipe the lipstick off her neck before Constance starts talking about your sex life. Again.”

 

Debbie made a mental note to wear a lighter shade next time.

 

*

 

**_day six_ **

 

“So how long are we thinking? A week? A month? Definitely not longer than a month.”

 

Amita looked up from her coloring book ( _adult_ coloring book, thank you very much) and blinked. “What are you talking about?”

 

“When are Lou and Deb getting engaged?” Daphne popped a piece of gum into her mouth and flopped down onto the couch.

 

The women looked around at each other. It was the first time they had all been back at the loft at the same time since Lou entered the hospital a little over a week ago. Eliza had informed them early that morning that the doctors wanted to try to get her moving and do a few routine tests, just to make sure Lou was healing properly, and that it’d be a few hours. They’d had to practically drag Debbie out of the building to get her to leave Lou’s side. Even now, she was on her way back to the hospital with a few items for Lou’s room: her medication, a favorite pillow, a couple books.

 

“I’ll just wait in the lobby, I won’t even go by the elevators.”

 

The crew figured it was in their own best interest just to let her go.

 

So there they sat, waiting it out. If they were being honest, they knew they all needed a break from hospital duty; enough of a break that they didn’t feel bad about putting their shoes on Lou’s furniture, but not _too_ much of a break that they needed alcohol this early.

 

“Aren’t they _already_ engaged _?”_ Tammy asked.

 

Daphne narrowed her eyes. “You know something, don’t you?”

 

“Yeah, if anyone knows anything about mom and mom, it’s you.” Constance shoved a pizza roll into her mouth.

 

“Mom and – _what?_ I don’t know anything. It was a genuine question. I thought it happened a month ago! Remember? Lou took Deb up to the roof because she wanted to show her something? That had ‘proposal’ written all over it.” Tammy shrugged. “I just assumed they weren’t wearing rings.”

 

“Nah, they definitely just fucked up there.” Constance shook her head. “Trust me.”

 

“How do you know _so much_ about – okay, ew, never mind,” Amita grimaced. “For what it’s worth, I don’t know anything about it. And like, I would, right? If either of them wanted to use any part of the Toussaint, they would’ve told me when we stole it. Right?”

 

Rose nodded. “Perhaps they married long ago. In secret. Bathed in moonlight...”

 

Tammy cut her off. “No, Rose.”

 

“I’ll tell you what _I_ think. Not that anyone asked,” Daphne started pacing around the living room, as Nine-Ball rolled her eyes. “I think Deb’s waiting for Lou to get better, like consistently-awake-and-talking better, and then she’s gonna get a whole bunch of flowers for the hospital ward or something gooey like that, and _then_ she’s gonna pop the question. Lou will say yes, obviously. And they’re gonna make sure to hide it from us.”

 

“Why would you think that?”

 

“Because even when she’s ass-over-tin-cup in love, Debbie Ocean is a _sneaky bitch._ And I love her, but like...” Daphne cocked her head to the side. “I’m bored. I want to plan a wedding.”

 

“Ass-over-tin-cup?” Amita raised an eyebrow.

 

“It’s a phrase. Look it up.”

 

“Technically, Lou’s talking now,” Nine-Ball pointed out.

 

The group considered it. The previous morning, Lou had finally, _finally_ starting piecing complex sentences together. By the end of the day, her speech was relatively back to normal, albeit slurred and with a little bit of a delay. When Debbie asked her if she needed anything before she went home for the night, she had responded in typical Lou fashion:

 

“Give me a goddamn cigarette.”

 

Debbie had looked genuinely insulted. “Jesus, babe. ‘ _Love you too_ ’ would have sufficed.”

 

The girls had teased Debbie about it incessantly for the past 24 hours.

 

Daphne threw her hands in the air. “This is what I’m _saying_ ,” she emphasized the last word slowly. “Less than a week. I’ll bet anyone who thinks they won’t be engaged by next Thursday...well, I don’t know _what_ I’ll bet, but I’ll bet!”

 

“Okay. Let’s make it interesting, then.” Constance grabbed another pizza roll, tossing it back and forth in her hands. “If it happens by Thursday, you get to have free rein over their wedding. Do what you want. Go crazy, I don’t care.”

 

Daphne’s eyes gleamed. “I’m listening.”

 

Amita’s eyes widened. “ _HEY,_ I wanted to pick out the flowers!” She sunk a little further into her seat. “Now my dream is dead.”

 

“Shh.” Constance turned back to Daphne. “If it happens _after_ Thursday...I get to be your date at your next premiere.”

 

Daphne sneered. “That’s it? Piece of cake.”

 

“ _And_ I get to talk to the press.”

 

Daphne closed her mouth as the rest of the group gasped. “Um...”

 

Rose rushed over to the Daphne/Constance standoff. “Think about this, love, before you say anything.” Grabbing Daphne’s hand, she continued, pleading. “I love you both dearly, but she...”

 

“That’s RIGHT, BITCHES, I _HAVE NO FILTER!”_ Constance exclaimed triumphantly. “It could go real, real good, or real, real bad.” She stuffed her hands in her pockets. “How lucky ya feelin’, Kluger?”

 

If there was one thing Daphne Kluger would never do, it was back down from a challenge.

 

“You’re on.” They shook on it and Rose and Tammy groaned.

 

“I’m afraid this won’t end well,” Rose sighed.

 

Tammy nodded. If _Rose_ was the sole voice of reason, there was definitely something wrong with the situation.

 

“Sorry to burst your bubble, Daph, but I doubt they’d want a big wedding. It’s not really Deb’s scene.” Tammy went into the kitchenette to move the boiling teakettle and grab a few tea bags.

 

“Yeah, but it’s definitely Lou’s.” Nine-Ball had been quiet until now, staring at her laptop.

 

“What? You’re kidding,” Amita said.

 

“Ooh, what did you find?” Daphne scuttled over to Nine’s bean bag chair.

 

“Oh, nothing. Seriously. I’ve been looking for the past ten minutes and there’s nothing about rings and shit.” She closed the laptop. “They definitely knew we’d start talking. But anyway, nah, I heard Lou say something about it one time. She was drunk as hell so maybe it wasn’t reliable information, but...yeah. Chapel, reception, the whole nine yards.”

 

Constance almost fell over. “ _Chapel?_ No way. Mom and Jesus don’t mix.”

 

Tammy stirred her tea, the spoon clinking rhythmically along the sides of the cup. “There’s a lot we don’t know about her. There are walls...I don’t know, she doesn’t tell me everything, either. I guess it’s plausible.”

 

“Does she have family she’d want to invite or something?”

 

A hush fell over the room.

 

“I think...I think that’s us,” Rose offered.

 

Constance nodded. “Word.”

 

The door to the loft opened and Debbie stomped inside, tossing her bag onto the couch (and Amita), its contents spilling out.

 

“Hey! What’s wrong with you?” Amita rubbed the spot on her forehead where the purse made contact with the palm of her hand.

 

Debbie had disappeared into the room she shared with Lou. “Brought the wrong meds,” she called out. “I’m going back. She’s...um...” Debbie reemerged, rolling a pill bottle between her hands. “It’s going to be a long recovery. That’s all.” Debbie leaned on the edge of the couch, taking her purse back from Amita.

 

“You saw her, didn’t you? You saw her, and you saw the doctor,” Nine-Ball sighed expectantly.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Deb, you _told us_ – ”

 

“Please. You clearly don’t know me at all if you thought I was just going to stay in the lobby.”

 

“Okay,” Tammy tried to hand Debbie a cup of tea, but Debbie waved it off. “What are the updates? And please, drink, you look awful.”

 

“Yeah, Deb, you can relax for a second.” Amita scooched over and patted the couch next to her. “Come here.”

 

Debbie shook her head. “I have to go back. She’s not walking.”

 

Rose emitted a tiny noise of fearful discomfort. “What?”

 

“Yeah. Her speech is back to normal, which the doctors said was a miracle in itself, but she’s having memory problems. She knows names, but not a lot of dates. The last two weeks are just gone completely. She doesn’t remember getting shot.”

 

“Oh my God...” breathed Amita.

 

“And she can’t walk. The seizure did that, the severity of it. It’s not permanent, thank God. But not doing physical therapy isn’t even an option.”

 

“Oh, she’s gonna be _pissed_ ,” Constance remarked. Daphne let out an ‘mm-hmm’ in agreement.

 

“So, here’s what we’re going to do,” Tammy stood up. “We are going to smile, and support her, and love her, because she would do the same for all of us.” She moved Debbie’s hair out of her face. “You too. You’ve got us.”

 

Debbie gave a half-hearted smile. “Thanks. I appreciate it.” Slapping her hands on her lap, Debbie hoisted herself off the couch. “Well, I’m out of here. I’ll be back later tonight, do we want Greek or Chinese?”

 

When everyone spoke at once, Debbie raised one hand to her temple. “Pizza it is.”

 

As she closed the door, Amita jumped off the couch with a quick “Deb, wait!” but she was too late.

 

Amita turned back to the crew, folder dangling from her fingers. “Do any of you know what this is about? It fell out of her bag.”

 

Daphne snatched the folder out of her hands and started rifling through it.

 

“ _Hey!_ That could be really personal stuff! _”_

Daphne placed a hand on her hip. “You all robbed the fucking Met Gala and you’re lecturing me on morality? Please.” Licking one finger, she flipped through the pages. “Who are all these people? Wait – Rusty Ryan? Why do I know that name?”

 

“What?” Tammy hurried over and peered at the files. “Oh my God. This – this is what she was talking about.”

 

“What? Who? Debbie?”

 

Tammy grabbed the folder and moved to share it with Rose, Constance, and Nine-Ball, searching for the page she was looking for all the while. When she found it, she held it out as the girls gathered around her.

 

“These are the guys who shot Lou.”

 

“And me,” Constance reminded them, “but yeah, mostly Lou.”

 

Tammy could feel her blood boiling as she slammed the folder onto the coffee table. “Excuse me,” she mumbled. “I’ll be back in a minute, I can’t...look at this right now.”

 

As she exited the loft, Daphne began pacing again. “Nine, you can find these assholes right?”

 

Nine-Ball lifted a hand. “Already on it.”

 

“Rose, didn’t you grow up in the deepest depths of Scotland or something?”

 

Rose blinked. “Ireland, love.”

 

“Really? The accent comes and goes.”

 

“It fluctuates. You know this, it’s one of my biggest insecurities – ”

 

“ _Any_ way...” Daphne continued, “do you know of any good vacation spots?”

 

Rose looked around in bewilderment. “I could probably think of something?”

 

“Good idea.”

 

Amita and Constance gave each other a knowing look. “Anything else, Daph?”

 

Daphne leaned against the windowsill. “I’m sure I’ll think of something. _God_ ,” she exclaimed, turning around and spreading her arms wide. “This is _fun._ I feel like Debbie.”

 

Amita leaned in and whispered in Constance’s ear, “She shouldn’t have this much power.”

 

“At least she won’t be planning the wedding,” Constance grinned. “No way she’s winning this bet.”

 

As Constance chuckled darkly to herself and Nine-Ball searched through databases for a handful of common criminals not unlike herself, Amita wondered how the hell she’d gotten here.

 

She didn’t come up with an answer, but strangely, she didn’t mind.

 

*

 

**_day eleven_ **

****

Whatever Debbie was expecting upon walking into Lou’s hospital room with a bouquet of flowers, it certainly wasn’t Lou sprawled on the floor, stifling sobs.

 

Debbie dropped to her knees. “What the _fuck?_ ” She slammed her finger onto Eliza’s call button and slid over to Lou’s side. “What happened?”

 

Lou cast her gaze downward. “I just...wanted to sit by the window.”

 

Debbie softened. “Oh, baby...”

 

At that moment, Eliza burst in and nudged her way in between the two women. “Not again...” she mumbled under her breath.

 

Debbie’s eyes widened as Lou bit her lip. “I’m sorry, this has happened _before_?”

 

Eliza nodded, sliding one arm under Lou’s legs, hooking her around the knees. “This is the third time in the past day and a half, yes.” She settled one of Lou’s arms around her shoulder and nodded at Debbie, prompting her to do the same with Lou’s other arm.

 

“No one thought to _tell me?_ ” Debbie was seething as they rose to their feet.

 

“I told her not to.” Lou winced when Eliza’s fingers got a little too close to the wound on her abdomen. “Don’t need you worrying about me.”

 

“When are you going to figure out that I’m _always_ going to worry about you?” They settled Lou in her chair and Eliza pulled up one more seat for Debbie as she grabbed the notepad that was peeking out of the pocket of her scrubs.

 

“I’m glad you’re here, actually,” Eliza started, crossing one leg over the other as she settled herself on the edge of Lou’s bed. “We want to talk about next steps.”

 

Debbie watched as Lou nodded emphatically. She was never one for being told what to do; Debbie wasn’t either, everyone knew that. Lou wanting so badly to get better made Debbie want to cry a little, for reasons she was unsure of.

 

“So the good news is that we’re discharging you. Hopefully, later this afternoon, if that’s okay with you,” Eliza said with a smile. Lou closed her eyes in relief and let out a long, shuddering breath as Debbie clutched her hand.

 

“However,” Eliza leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “We both know you’re not ready to go home, Ali.” Debbie opened her mouth before closing it just as quickly. She had completely forgotten that Lou was still using the fake name. She’d seen Eliza so many times over the past two weeks and grown so fond of her, Debbie almost wanted to clue her in to the truth.

 

Almost.

 

“There’s an incredible physical therapy program at Montefiore. It is in-patient, but they can be quite lenient if you want to spend the night at home every once in a while, especially with how close you are to them. It’s twenty minutes away from you.”

 

Debbie moved in closer as tears started to spill down Lou’s face, the exhaustion finally coming over her, breaking her façade.

 

“I just want our bed, Deb.” Lou sounded like a little kid.

 

“I know, baby.” Debbie offered her a tissue with the hand that wasn’t still holding Lou’s. “I know."

 

“If the way you’ve been working with us over the past few days is any indication, you’ll be back home for good in no time.”

 

“Thanks, love, but don’t lie to me,” Lou drawled. “I’m not exactly doing too well.”

 

Eliza adjusted her bun (made with chopsticks, Debbie noticed – surely not sanitary, but a cute look. She’d have to try it sometime.) and placed a hesitant hand on Lou’s shoulder. “I’m not lying. Yes, it’s going to take some time and a lot of hard work and you’re going to get frustrated, but we’ve seen just how much you’re trying and honestly? That’s half the battle. And frankly,” she smiled, lowering her voice. “You’re pretty badass.”

 

Debbie couldn’t help but smile at that, and neither could Lou. She knew she was badass, of course, but it was nice to have it reaffirmed, especially right now.

 

“So how about it? We can have your information transferred in a little over an hour.”

 

Lou glanced at Debbie, who only squeezed her hand in encouragement.

 

Lou nodded. “Okay.”

 

“Great!” Eliza stood and headed towards the door. “Which brings me to my second point...” She left the room for a minute and then came back in, pushing a wheelchair. “You’ll need this for a little while.”

 

Lou’s jaw dropped ever so slightly, and Debbie could see the slight poke of her tongue in the side of her cheek. Lou hated feeling weak. Hated it even more than she hated breaking up the fights at her club, or Rose’s incessant prattling about the benefits of a vegan diet, or Debbie’s oh-so-delightful relationship with Claude Becker (although, Lou would admit to herself, that had never truly been _hate_ ). She couldn’t stand the lack of control, the lack of autonomy. Debbie knew, she could tell by the look on her face, this was killing her.

 

Eliza seemed to sense this as well, as the lilt in her voice was quickly replaced by a gentler tone. “Just need to get you fitted for it, then we can try a lap around the hallway.”

 

Debbie scooped Lou into her arms and deposited her in the chair with a clunk. “Sorry,” she cringed.

 

Lou shook her head. “It’s fine...” Her voice drifted off as she wiggled a bit in the seat, ran her fingers over one of the wheels. If Debbie was always thinking, Lou was always observing.

 

For once in her life, Debbie let herself just observe, too.

 

*

 

**_day sixteen_ **

****

Debbie hated sleeping alone.

 

The loft was eerily quiet without her crew, especially at night.

 

After Lou moved into Montefiore, Debbie was finally able to breathe for a second, knowing that there wasn’t anything else she could do. Usually, that would irritate the hell out of her, but after the past three weeks, Debbie didn’t think _anything_ could do that anymore.

 

With Lou a lot more stable, the crew had dispersed. For now. Always for now, Debbie reminded herself. She’d practically pushed them out the door when she realized _holy shit_ , Tammy has not seen her children in three weeks.

 

“It’s seriously fine,” Tammy had said. “Ben took them to Disney. I’ll bet they barely noticed I was gone.” Nonetheless, Debbie had insisted they leave, didn’t want to keep them holed up any longer.

 

No doubt in her mind they’d all be back the moment Lou was released, laughing and joking and probably bringing over one of those store-bought sheet cakes with “Congrats on Walking!” written on it – Constance’s idea, of course.

 

Flipping her pillow over to the cool side for what felt like the twelfth time that night, Debbie finally surrendered and made her way to the living room couch. She’d worn Lou’s pajamas that night, and she noticed upon sitting down that the left leg of the red flannel pants had a hole in the side. She’d have to ask Rose to patch that up before Lou came home.

 

Two days without seeing Lou was more than enough. It was strange, really; Debbie had gone almost six years in jail without her and now she couldn’t bear it for any longer than two hours. She couldn’t visit for a few more days, but she’d called her earlier. Lou had cried, told her how much she was struggling, told her she couldn’t wait to see her. Debbie had cried too.

 

Thank God there was no one in the loft left to make fun of her.

 

Which reminded her, she’d never gotten around to asking Lou that question.

 

She’d planned on it, sat on it a couple days after it was clear that Lou was in no state to be talking or moving more than the minimum amount. Then, the desire had just sort of...gone away.

 

If you’re going to ask someone as majestic as Lou Miller to be your wife, it has to be perfect.

 

She’d gotten the ring before she left for Jersey, intending to keep it back at the loft since she had to drop the groceries off there anyway. But she’d ultimately slid it into one of the inside pockets of her purse, partly out of an inherent mistrust of some of her crew when it came to snooping, mostly because if, God forbid, something happened and Lou took a turn for the worse, Debbie wanted her to know that she hadn’t just been waiting around, that she wanted to do this, that she loved Lou and would love Lou forever and ever and ever, no matter what.

 

Almost losing her made Debbie realize just how badly she wanted her, _needed_ her, to begin with. And how she always would.

 

Debbie would finally be able to call Lou her wife, instead of just dreaming about it.

 

It was almost good enough to lull her into a false sense of security.

 

So the ring sat in her bag, just waiting to be slid onto Lou’s finger at some point in the foreseeable future.

 

Debbie realized she’d never be able to say any of this out loud, but she liked to think that Lou knew.

 

And she did, of course.

 

Lou always knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, pretty please with cherries on top leave comments??? you're all lovely, thanks for reading, see you in the next chapter!!


	5. blue wind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY OCEAN'S 8 DIGITAL RELEASE DAY!!!
> 
> I AM BACK
> 
> chapter warning: smut! there's smut! i made a pitiful attempt at some smut and i apologize if it's awful, as it is outside my typical wheelhouse but necessary for this chapter!
> 
> As always, please leave comments, I love them (and you) with all of my heart.

**_day seventeen_ **

****

“ _I like! Big! Butts and I cannot lie! You other brothers can’t deny! When a girl walks in w –_ ”

 

Debbie’s hand searched for her phone in the early morning light, desperate to silence the inane song coming out of its speakers. Constance had changed all of her ringtones around and Debbie hadn’t gotten a chance to ask Nine-Ball how to switch it back to something normal and not utterly humiliating.

 

As the phone fell to the floor with a crash, Debbie groaned. She would’ve flopped back under the covers, but Sir Mix-A-Lot was _still playing_ , so she threw her arm over the side of the bed and let her hand search blindly for the vibrating device. Lifting it to her face, she squinted at the name glowing on the screen.

 

John.

 

_Shit._

“Hello?”

 

“ _Good morning, Debbie! How’s my favorite felon doing this fine morning?”_

Debbie hoped he could feel her glare on the other end of the line.

 

“It’s 5:35 in the morning, John, what the fuck do you want?”

 

“ _Tsk. Someone’s awful ornery. Feeling a bit peckish, maybe? Veselka. 9:30.”_

“John, I’m not just – ”

 

“ _See you then.”_

Click.

 

Goddammit.

 

Hours later, a vision in denim and silk strutting the streets of New York, Debbie turned yet another corner, settling her sunglasses on the bridge of her nose as the tiny diner came into view.

 

Veselka was _their_ place. Going there with anyone else, especially John fucking Frazier, felt like the ultimate betrayal.

 

The last time Lou and Debbie visited Veselka, Lou had picked absentmindedly at her veal goulash and stared out the window, not paying any attention to the way her fork scratched against the plate. When Debbie placed a gentle hand on her wrist, she jumped a little, bangs falling into her face.

 

“Cow’s already dead, babe. You don’t need to keep stabbing it.”

 

“Sorry,” Lou mumbled, taking a tiny bite. “Just distracted.”

 

“Okay...” Debbie waited for Lou to elaborate.

 

“You wanna get out of here?”

 

Debbie tilted her head. “You literally _just_ heard me order more pierogis.”

 

“No,” Lou rolled her eyes. “New York. Let’s go somewhere, just you and me. Like old times.”

 

“Old times like Prague or old times like Cancun? Because you and I have very different definitions of old times.”

 

“Those two weren’t that different if I remember correctly,” Lou responded with a sly smile. “Either one would do.”

 

“Oh, darling, we’ll always have Paris.”

 

“Deb.” Lou shot her a look. “I mean it. What’s holding us here?”

 

“Your club, for one. And I’m waiting to hear from Tammy and her contact...”

 

“Could you at least do me the courtesy of telling me what you’re planning?”

 

Debbie glanced up before pointing at Lou’s plate with the end of her fork. “Eat your veal.”

 

Lou scoffed. “You know, one of these days you’re going to do something so completely asinine that I’m going to leave you.”

 

“Oh, whatever will I do without you?”

 

“Honey, I’ve been asking myself that question for _years_.”

 

“Yeah?” Debbie smiled. “Did you come up with an answer?”

 

“I’m still here, aren’t I?”

 

“Look,” Debbie started, reaching across the table to touch Lou’s hand. “If this works out the way I think it’s going to, I will take you wherever you want to go. No jobs, no crew, just us. Promise.”

 

Lou grinned as she took a bite of food. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

 

Debbie tried to shake the memory away. The job fell through, Lou got shot, and she hadn’t stepped in Veselka since.

 

John was waiting for her in a corner booth, hands folded on the edge of the table. He slid a cup of coffee over to Debbie as she sat down.

 

“I assumed you still took it black.”

 

“You assumed correctly.”

 

“How’s Lou?”

 

Debbie sipped her coffee. “Fine. A lot better. I’m seeing her tomorrow. What do you want?”

 

“Excited to dive right in! That’s the Debbie I know.”

 

“John, I swear to God – ”

 

“The guys we’re after turned themselves in.”

 

Well, _that_ wasn’t what she was expecting to hear.

 

“You’re kidding.”

 

“Would I lie to you?”

 

“Yes, actually. It’s happened before, multiple times.”

 

John lowered his voice. “Apparently, they tried fleeing the country. To Ireland, of all places. Got pretty far, too. But when they touched down, they had no money, no prospects...all their accounts were drained, Debbie. And someone tipped us off.”

 

“It wasn’t me, John.”

 

“You sure about that?”

 

“I’ve been helping Lou get adjusted to being in a fucking wheelchair for God knows how long, I think that qualifies me as being a little too busy to ruin lives at the moment.”

 

“Have you seen this?” John handed her his phone and Debbie came face-to-face with Daphne Kluger’s Twitter page.

 

Swallowing a scream, Debbie looked up and tried to play it cool. “So?”

 

“Scroll down a bit.”

 

She complied.

 

The New York Times had already picked up the story about the last of the Deluccis being taken into police custody, and Daphne had retweeted their article, adding the smallest bit of her own commentary into the mix:

 

_Good riddance._

“On top of that, she’s quoted in the article.”

Debbie’s eyes widened a bit as a million questions flooded her mind. What the hell had her crew been up to, and for how long? How had she not _known_? It wasn’t like Daphne, or Constance, for that matter, to keep their lips sealed about stuff like this, especially when the situation was so dire and the stakes were so high.

 

_Shit shit shit._

“Now, I personally find it _remarkably_ coincidental that Daphne even _knew_ about this. Shootings happen in New York every single day. And unless she’s some sort of closet mafia aficionado, she shouldn’t know more than a handful of factoids about the Deluccis and their business dealings in general. Daphne Kluger isn’t a criminal. After all,” John chuckled, “You had nothing to do with the disappearance of the Toussaint.”

 

“That’s right.”

 

“And neither did she.”

 

“Not to my knowledge.”

 

“And you’d swear on that in a court of law?”

 

_Oh no._

“John, what are you getting at? Why are you so invested in this?”

 

“Oh, I’m not getting at anything, Debbie. I just wanted _you_ to know. I think you have some people to thank. Count your blessings, all that.” Stuffing the phone back in his pocket, John stood up and placed his fedora on his head.

 

“New look?”

 

“Yeah, I’m trying something out.”

 

"It's not working."

 

They stared at one another for a second before John grabbed his umbrella.

 

“I’ll see you around, Debbie. Stay out of trouble!” He turned as he reached for the door. “Thanks for breakfast, by the way.”

 

Setting a ten-dollar-bill on the table, Debbie’s head spun as she sat in stunned silence.

 

Not even 10 AM, and this was already shaping up to be _quite_ the interesting week.

 

*

 

**_day eighteen_ **

****

Maybe she should stop bringing Lou flowers.

 

Because every time Debbie showed up with a bouquet in her hands, Lou was on the floor.

 

She was two for two now.

 

Lou’s room at Montefiore was reasonably large, bigger than her hospital room had been (although that wasn’t saying much). The windows were open, the sun was shining, the birds were chirping...

 

And there was Lou, crouched over the toilet in her private bathroom, heaving and heaving, back convulsing, wheelchair tipped over outside the door.

 

Debbie was next to her in a flash, holding her hair back at the neck and rubbing her back. Lou stopped long enough to lay her eyes on Debbie and give her the most pathetic puppy dog eyes Debbie had ever seen before continuing to empty her stomach.

 

Debbie grimaced. She hated it when Lou threw up, because she reacted with her whole body, just shaking and shaking, pale as a ghost. She knew Lou’s throat would be fucked for a solid two days now.

 

And then all was quiet.

 

Debbie grabbed a piece of toilet paper and handed it to Lou, who shifted so that her back was leaning against the toilet.

 

“Your timing is just impeccable.” Lou dabbed at the corner of her mouth. “Thanks.”

 

“How long?” Debbie attempted to place the back of her hand against Lou’s forehead but Lou ducked away.

 

“Just today. And last night.” Lou shook her head. “It’s the goddamn medication. I can’t keep anything down. Can you...” She nodded towards the wheelchair and hoisted herself up onto the toilet seat as Debbie brought the chair in. Wrapping an arm around her waist and trying to ignore how Lou’s entire body trembled, Debbie helped her get settled in the seat.

 

“Ask them to put you on different meds, maybe.”

 

“Wow, Deb, what a _brilliant_ idea, why didn’t _I_ think of that?”

 

Debbie rolled her eyes. “Smartass.”

 

“Sorry. Just feeling like shit, you know.”

 

“Anything I can do?”

 

Lou gave her a half-hearted smile. “Break me out?”

 

"I wish.”

 

Lou wheeled herself over to the window, Debbie following not far behind. “You can actually take your jacket off, honey. Stay a while. It’s been a whole week. I missed you.”

 

Debbie grinned. “For your _information_ , I’m leaving it on because it’s freezing in here with that window open, how are you not cold?” Lou simply shrugged as Debbie planted a kiss on her cheek before settling herself on the couch facing her. “Missed you too.”

 

“So.” Lou tapped her fingers on the armrests of the chair. “Tell me things. What’s everyone been up to?”

 

_Uh. Well._

“I haven’t seen anyone in a few days, actually. They went home.”

 

_And apparently, Daphne Kluger orchestrated the arrest of the men who tried to kill us. Just, y’know, typical Tuesday night stuff._

 

“Oh?”

 

Debbie nodded. “How did you survive living alone while I was inside? It’s too quiet. I feel like I’m going insane.”

 

“Well, you probably are.”

 

“Wow, I didn’t know I was dating a _comedian_. You’re just _hilarious._ ”

 

“Shut it. And to answer your question, I didn’t really have a choice. Not like it wasn’t difficult.” Lou watched as a bird returned to its nest in the sycamore just outside the window. “You don’t make it easy to forget you.”

 

Debbie let that sink in.

 

In prison, she’d fooled herself into thinking that she and Lou would be able to pick up right where they left off.

 

And maybe that was idiotic, that she’d hoped against hope, but Debbie _knew,_ she knew that Lou wasn’t going to just walk away. She couldn’t bring herself to.

 

Lou didn’t. Lou stayed, against her better judgment. And it had taken some time, but they worked it out. Debbie knew they’d be able to.

 

But the memories, the hurt, it hung over their relationship like a raincloud, threatening to darken the skies at any given moment.

 

There was still something unspoken between them. There always would be. It was _acknowledged_ , but it remained unspoken. Maybe it was Claude, maybe it was that Debbie would always be running a job, maybe they didn’t know _what_ it was, just that it was there.

 

On the one-year anniversary of the Toussaint heist, Debbie had spent most of the night in communication with Rusty, wanting to yank her hair out, trying to pull off another job while they were in separate states (Linus had pulled out last minute), and had therefore mostly ignored the party Amita had thrown for everyone. She’d been particularly mean to Lou, and everyone had noticed. They were coming up on their six-month anniversary, and she’d tossed her to the side just as easily as she had done almost seven years prior.

 

Later that night, they laid in bed, Debbie dozing off to the sound of Lou’s heartbeat, when:

 

“You don’t love me.”

 

Lou didn’t sound angry. There was no spite in her voice; she sounded very matter-of-fact.

 

Debbie lifted her head. “What? How could you think that?” She raised a hand but Lou caught it with her own before Debbie could caress her cheek, choosing instead to interlock their fingers.

 

“You don’t love me the same way I love you. You can’t.” Giving Debbie a tiny smile, Lou settled into the covers. “It’s okay.”

 

Debbie’s heart broke and broke and broke.

 

From that moment on, Lou came first. The jobs became less frequent, and although Debbie tried to tell herself she was okay with that, it was a lot more difficult to deal with than she would ever admit. When you’re only good at one thing, you get dependent on that thing, and when you’re an Ocean, that dependency is in your blood.

 

As much as Lou told her she didn’t mind, Debbie knew she did.

 

So they found themselves at an impasse. They loved each other, relentlessly. They were millionaire criminals who loved each other and everything was _good_.

 

But Debbie would spend the rest of her life making it up to Lou.

 

“Deb.”

 

She broke out of her trance. “Hmm?”

 

“You okay?”

 

_Sure._

“Never better, baby.”

 

“You know I can tell when you’re lying.”

 

“Oh, so you’re a mind reader now? Tell me what I’m thinking about right now.”

 

“Lunch, probably.”

 

“Is that all?”

 

“Lunch, dessert...it’s all the same.” Lou bit her lip.

 

“Mmm, dessert.”

 

“Have I mentioned how comfortable my bed is? Awfully nice. Room for two. Mostly.”

 

“Settle down.”

 

“Hey, Deb?”

 

“Yes, baby?”

 

“Can you tell me what happened? What was it like?”

 

 

Her words felt like a punch to the gut.

 

Lou was quiet. “No one will tell me. They think I’m too fragile,” she continued with a roll of her eyes. “It’ll disrupt the healing process, or whatever. But I need to know. Please.”

 

Debbie opened her mouth, but no words came out. When she finally spoke, Lou could barely hear her.

 

“I thought you were dead.”

 

Tears welled up as Debbie stared into her girlfriend’s eyes.

 

“It was just...so loud. And fast. People were dropping like flies. I don’t...I don’t know what you want me to tell you, I can’t remember that much myself.” Debbie didn’t realize she had been picking at her nail beds. “Only that you looked dead.”

 

“Do they know who did it?”

 

“Yeah. They’re in custody,” Debbie said slowly as she tried to hide the look of guilt on her face.

 

“I’m sorry.” Her bottom lip trembled. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t do more for you. I tried. This is all my fault, they were after me, not you, I’m _sorry_...”

 

“Deb, slow down. It’s okay. It’s okay. Talk to me. Hey,” Lou placed her hands on Debbie’s shoulders. “Hey. This is _not_ your fault. What do you mean they were after you? Were they after Danny?”

 

“I almost broke rule number one.”

 

Lou’s eyes widened at that. Danny’s rules, which Debbie had adopted as her own, had served them both well in the past, “don’t hurt anybody” being the one that Lou had the most trouble adhering to most of the time.

 

“Why would you do that?”

 

“I don’t know, Lou, I wasn’t thinking – ”

 

“ _Clearly_.” Lou was breathing heavily. She looked to be on the verge of a panic attack. “You could’ve gone back to prison, Deb. Or worse.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Why would you do something so _stupid?_ ”

 

“Don’t attack me – ”

 

“ _No,_ Debbie.” The look on Lou’s face as she shook her head just made Debbie come apart even more. “Don’t make me go through this right now. I can’t lose you again.” Lou, usually so steely, was struggling to keep her composure as a tear slid down her face. “I can’t lose you...”

 

“God, Lou.” Debbie took her in her arms, trying not to acknowledge just how frail Lou had gotten over the past few weeks. “You won’t. You’re never going to lose me again.”

 

If Debbie had squeezed just a little bit tighter, Lou would have snapped in half.

 

*

 

**_day twenty-five_ **

****

“Seriously, is he single? ‘Cause y’all know I don’t chase after _nobody_ , but if he’s single...a bitch might just power walk.”

 

“You stole that from Tumblr.”

 

“So? It’s true.”

 

They were, of course, talking about Andrew West, Lou’s physical therapist who was, indeed, a rather attractive man, thirty years old and father to two adorable beagles.

 

After some time apart, the crew had gotten back together to visit Deb and Lou, who were both feeling considerably better after taking a couple days to talk everything out with one another, including the who, what, and why of the shooting. Tears were shed, promises were whispered, and they were stronger than ever.

 

(So they said. Tammy suspected that she’d get involved in their romantic drama sooner or later, but she appreciated that they’d seemed to work everything out for the time being.)

 

The fact that the six ladies had chosen to show up on one of the days that Lou was working with Andrew...well, that was _completely_ coincidental.

 

Lou was coming to the end of a ninety-minute session, and they waited patiently in her room, Tammy and Nine-Ball in chairs, Amita and Rose on the couch, Daphne flipping through a magazine at the end of Lou’s bed.

 

And Constance...

 

Constance was a little _preoccupied._

“Come on! There’s no ‘u’ in quitter! Wait...never mind.”

 

“Please stop.”

 

As Eliza had pointed out several weeks ago, Lou was a fighter. She pushed herself and pushed herself, and while that wasn’t always necessarily a good thing, in this case, it absolutely was. She was walking, slowly and with the assistance of crutches, but walking nonetheless.

 

“Hey,” Lou grinned, nodding towards the women in her room as they passed, who all gave little whoops of support. She rounded the corner, Constance walking backward in front of her, Andrew keeping his arm tight around her waist, Debbie following close behind with the wheelchair.

 

“Hi Andrew!” Amita fluffed her hair a little as she hurried over to the doorway, watching them make their way down the hall. Andrew tossed her a smile and Amita squealed the moment they were out of sight. “Guys, his butt is _adorable._ Gosh, Lou is _so_ lucky.”

 

“She has to relearn how to _walk,_ Amita.”

 

“Well, still!”

 

For what it was worth, Andrew really enjoyed working with Lou. She made him laugh, and they had similar taste in music. She was effortlessly cool, and Andrew appreciated that.

 

“Bring your right foot out just a little bit – there. Nice.” Andrew let go of her waist. “Can you shift your weight for me?”

 

Lou grunted a little bit.

 

“There. Do you feel that? It’s a little harder because you’ve put more pressure on this leg than the other for a longer time. But it’s feeling pretty strong. You okay?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“You look great, baby.” Debbie smiled at Lou. She meant it, too. Lou was looking better and better each day.

 

“So I’m gonna take this crutch, okay? Leave you with just the one. Still good?”

 

Lou responded by picking up her pace a bit, making a sharp turn towards the elevators. “Be back in an hour.”

 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Andrew laughed. “One step at a time. Nice try, though.”

 

“I mean...y’all been to the pool on floor three? I’d try to escape, too.” Constance’s good arm was shoved up the bottom of the vending machine by the elevators, blindly feeling around for the package of Twinkies on the bottom shelf.

 

Debbie nudged her. “Stop it, you’re embarrassing us.”

 

“Look, I would if I could, but I can’t so – I’m stuck. Mom, I’m stuck.”

 

“How on Earth did you get _stuck_...”

 

As they took in the scene in front of them, Andrew pulled Lou off to the side and slid the gait belt off her waist. “Are your friends always this weird?”

 

“You don’t know the _half_ of it.”

 

Andrew chuckled. “Alright, well, let’s get you settled here...” Pulling the wheelchair behind her, he held onto Lou’s hands as she sat back down and readjusted the straps of her tank top.

 

“So we’ve got your cane coming in, it should be here in a couple days. And yes, before you ask _again_ , it has a snakehead.”

 

Lou snorted. “Didn’t think you’d take me seriously.”

 

“Anything for my favorite patient.”

 

“I bet you say that to _all_ the girls.”

 

“Nah. Just you.” Squeezing her shoulder with a wink, Andrew hoisted the crutches under his arm. “Great job today. Tell Debbie I said bye.”

 

“You know you have no chance with her, right?”

 

“Eh, she’s not my type.”

 

“Oh, thank God. I was worried for a second.” Lou couldn’t hide her smirk.

 

“You, worried? Never.”

 

“Happens more frequently than you’d think.”

 

“Well, for what it’s worth, you don’t _need_ to worry,” Andrew reassured her, a lopsided grin on his face. “You’re doing great. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Leaning against the wall as he waited for the elevators, Andrew was quick to add one more thing as Debbie turned the wheelchair around and started back towards Lou’s room, Constance several feet in front of them, Twinkies in hand.

 

“That snakehead is gonna be added to your bill when you get out of here.”

 

“It’s worth it,” Lou called over her shoulder.

 

As the couple made their way into the room, they were greeted with what appeared to be a sacrificial circle, Constance in the middle, everyone else surrounding her, listening to her with bated breath.

 

“Good news is, he’s _straight, y’all._ So turn up,” Constance said, barely comprehensible through the Twinkie in her mouth. “But he’s giving me major girlfriend vibes. So like...we might be outta luck.”

 

“GODDAMMIT!” Amita flopped back onto the couch dramatically.

 

Lou shot Debbie a look before clearing her throat. “How are you feeling, Lou? You look great, Lou. Oh wow, _thanks,_ everyone!”

 

Tammy laughed. “Sorry. He’s just _incredibly_ attractive.”

 

“You’re married, Tammy.”

 

“You don’t stop noticing attractive people just because you’re married!”

 

“ _Any_ way,” Daphne started, her gum popping as she spoke, “how’s the walking coming?”

 

Lou shrugged. “Fine. I really don’t understand how going up and down stairs is easier than just walking down the hallway, but...” She ran a hand through her hair, clearly ready for someone to change the subject.

 

“Because apparently, you aren’t allowed to have nice things.” Debbie bent down to give her a kiss. “Tragic, really.”

 

“Take it easy, you two. There are six other people in this room,” Tammy reminded them.

 

“I mean...I’m kind of into it.”

 

“Constance, _stop._ ”

 

Shutting the door behind her with a click, Debbie put her hands on her hips and the room fell silent.

 

Clearly, she meant business.

 

“So since you’re all here, I think we need to talk about the elephant in the room.”

 

Rose sputtered a little as she blinked wildly. “That was _one time_ , and I gave it back!!”

 

Debbie glanced up at the ceiling. _Lord help her._ “No, Rose. I’m referring to the fact that you all fucked over some of the last remaining members of one of the most notorious crime families in the country.”

 

Amita raised her hand. “For the record, I was not involved in this whatsoever.”

 

Constance shook her head. “Me neither. Sounds lit, though.”

 

“Look, it’s not like we really had any other option.” Daphne was already on the defensive, taking Debbie’s words as an attack on her (which, to be fair, it sort of was).

 

“How did you find out about them in the first place?”

 

Daphne flipped her hair. “I have my sources.”

 

“Your folder. That’s how,” Nine said from her seat. “She ain’t got _sources_. But apparently, you do.”

 

“Who else even knows about this? Was it on the news or something?” Amita looked around in confusion.

 

“John Frazier.”

 

Debbie looked up. Tammy was staring at her with an unrecognizable expression. None of Tammy’s usual exasperation was coming across in the way she looked at Debbie.

 

“He knows, right?”

 

“How do you think I found out in the first place, Tim Tam?”

 

Tammy looked like she wanted to say something else, but she refrained, simply nodding her head instead.

 

“So this is what’s going to happen,” Debbie grabbed the tote bag she had slid under Lou’s bed. “The only numbers that are in these phones are all of ours. The eight of us, and a few other people we can trust.” Debbie glanced at Tammy. “Camila and Amber. Jenna. And Ivy.”

 

“Ivy?”

 

“You can get a lot done from prison, Tammy.” Handing each member of her crew a purple burner phone, Debbie’s heels clicked sharply against the floor, even though her movements were slow and deliberate.

 

“If anything like this happens ever again, God forbid, do not make a  _single move_ until you discuss it with me. There’s going to be a media frenzy, and the only way we’re getting through this is if we work as a unit.”

 

“You’re such a hypocrite.”

 

Daphne stood with her arms crossed, one hip popped, shaking her head in disbelief.

 

“Sorry, Debbie, I’m not going to take orders from someone who would’ve taken matters into her own hands if her girlfriend hadn’t woken up from a coma.” Her eyes shifted down towards Lou. “She tell you that part? How she was about to kill people for you?”

 

“Leave her out of this. I’m trying to protect you, _all_ of you.”

 

Lou put a hand on Debbie’s wrist, before murmuring, “Stand down, love.” She turned to Daphne. “She’s right. You put a target on your back by doing that Times interview. Don’t be a hero. It’s not a good look for any of us.”

 

Daphne narrowed her eyes. “You still don’t get it. You’re so willing to forgive her when she does something out of sheer stupidity. It’s annoying. And a sign of a toxic relationship.”

 

Constance was up in a flash. “ _Hey._ That’s moms you’re talking about. I’ll fight you.”

 

“Yeah, well, _moms_ are getting on my last goddamn nerve right now.”

 

“Daphne, STOP.” Everyone was taken aback by the tone of Nine-Ball’s voice. “Come on, man. Hear her out. She knows more about this shit than anyone here. And _don’t_ pretend you weren’t trying to get that promo. Ain’t you got a new movie coming out?”

 

Daphne went silent.

 

“For the record, I never said it wasn’t a good plan. Because it _was_ ,” Debbie leaned her arms on the back of Lou’s chair. “You’re smart, Daphne. Really smart. You don’t need me to tell you that.”

 

“You’re right. I don’t,” Daphne interrupted.

 

“So you also know that _you_ would be in prison right now if it weren’t for us. Just like we’d be there if it weren’t for you.” Debbie shrugged. “It’s always been this way, Daph. And yes, I was an _idiot._ I was terrified, and I overreacted. But that’s over now.”

 

Debbie looked around at the group.

 

“This is it. It’s done.”

 

Daphne quietly conceded and there were little nods from everyone but Tammy, whose eyes darted back and forth from Debbie to Lou and back again, making eye contact for the slightest second before looking away again.

 

“Now,” Debbie said, picking up her purse. “Who wants takeout?”

 

*

 

**_day thirty-two_ **

****

Debbie couldn’t figure out if she enjoyed being at Montefiore before noon or not.

 

It felt like an entirely different place. Light spread through the hallways in unfamiliar patterns, the visitor bathrooms were heavy with the scent of rosewater, and it was so quiet she could hear the echo of her footsteps.

 

It felt a little strange to have her sunglasses on in such a bright environment, but Debbie had a reputation to uphold.

 

Peeking her head into Lou’s room, Debbie couldn’t help but smile.

 

She could stare at her at any time of day, but Debbie particularly loved Lou in the mornings. There was something about the way she’d wake up; Lou wasn’t a morning person in the slightest, but she loved making breakfast and lounging around on lazy weekends, and the smile she’d give Debbie upon seeing her at daybreak was always the most glorious thing.

 

Today was no exception. Lou was spread out on the couch, ankles and feet barely peeking out of the fluffy blue robe she was bundled in. A mug of steaming hot tea was perched on the windowsill and Lou sat with her head tilted back, eyes closed, humming along to the music inside her head. She was fresh-faced, with damp hair and glasses sitting at the tip of her nose.

 

“Hey.”

 

Lou opened one eye and grinned, and Debbie wanted to kiss the smile right off her face.

 

“Hi, honey. You didn’t tell me you were coming today.”

 

Debbie had, in fact, told her two days ago that she would be visiting today, but she didn’t need to remind Lou of that. Her memory, while improving, wasn’t proving to be too effective when it came to remembering dates. Amita had almost cried when Lou forgot her birthday. Rose had made her a little calendar with everything important written on it. It hung right next to the closet door.

 

“When’s Andrew coming?”

 

“He was already here. Been done for an hour.”

 

“Wow. How long have you been awake?”

 

“Few hours. Didn’t sleep that well last night.”

 

Debbie leaned against the doorframe. “I can come back later if you need to rest.”

 

Lou beamed at her. “Don’t you dare.” Holding the mug out towards Debbie, Lou tilted her head, beckoning her inside. “Here, have some. I’m done with it.”

 

“I’m good, thank you.” Debbie strode towards her, settling herself in the chair facing the couch. “I mean it, sleep if you need to. I’ll be here. I’ll find something to occupy myself with,” she said, eyes darting around Lou’s room.

 

“There’s a Rembrandt hanging in the lobby if you get bored.”

 

“Oh, I’ve been eyeing that for _days._ ”

 

“We can probably smuggle it out if we attach it to the bottom of my chair.”

 

“Hmm. How fast do you think you can get to the car?”

 

“I’d get there faster if you pushed me.”

 

“And run? In these shoes?”

 

“You’ve done far more idiotic things in higher heels, Deborah.”

 

“Touché.” Debbie crossed her legs as she smiled at her partner. “I love you.”

 

“Love you too.” Lou shifted her position on the couch as she grabbed a tattered copy of _A Streetcar Named Desire_ from the nightstand behind her head and adjusted her glasses. Debbie watched her curiously.

 

“Really? _Streetcar_?”

 

“You ever read it?”

 

“Can’t say I have.”

 

Lou’s eyes twinkled. “You’d have made a damn good Blanche DuBois, in another life.”

 

Debbie raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

 

“She’s a woman with loose morals. Not unlike you on a good day.”

 

“Oh, and you’re a saint?”

 

“By Tennessee Williams’ standards, yes.”

 

Debbie snickered. “Lou Miller, Tennessee Williams’ aficionado.”

 

“Debbie Ocean, Southern debutante.” Lou winked at her before turning her attention back to the play.

 

All was silent for a moment before Lou cleared her throat and continued speaking.

 

“It’s funny, actually,” she said, the words slow as her eyes continued to dart over the pages of the book. “I didn’t start reading plays until I saw a Shakespeare in the Park production of _Hamlet_ a few years ago. I’d never really listened to the language. The way he wrote...I liked decoding it. It was a decent distraction from whatever bullshit the real world was throwing me at the time.”

 

If Lou had looked up, she would have noticed Debbie rummaging through her purse, but she kept her eyes glued to the book.

 

“Anyway, did you know that this was adapted by a lesbian theater company in the late 80’s? They called it _Belle Reprieve._ They essentially turned it into a gender-bent drag show, but they still managed to maintain the integrity of – Deb.”

 

A soft smile playing on her lips, Debbie sat in her chair, one leg still crossed over the other, holding the ring box open in her hands.

 

“Deb. Is that...”

 

“It is.”

 

“So...you’re...”

 

“I am.”

 

Lou’s mouth was slightly ajar, but she snapped it shut before shaking her head a little, clearly flabbergasted. “Now?”

 

“You talk about Shakespeare and Rembrandt like you actually grew up in Romantic Europe, and you look absolutely stunning.” Debbie shrugged one shoulder. “So, yes. Now.”

 

Lou’s eyes darted to the ring in the box and she tilted her head, clearly trying to choose her next words carefully. She sighed and hung her head a bit, even as she sat straight up on the couch.

 

“Debbie, I – can you hand me my jacket?”

 

Debbie’s eyes followed Lou’s finger, which was pointing at that damn leather hanging on the closet doorknob.

 

“...sure.”

 

Okay, _now_ Debbie was starting to get a little nervous. She hadn’t planned on proposing today, but here she was. There was no turning back, and Lou wanted her _jacket?_

 

“I – thank you,” Lou folded the leather over her lap. “Honey, you know I adore you.”

 

“Right...” Debbie could feel her heartbeat in her throat.

 

“But I’m going to have to turn you down. I’m so sorry.”

 

For a second, it didn’t register.

 

Debbie laughed at her, before blinking rapidly.

 

“You’re kidding, right? You’re not _actually_ saying no?” Debbie was aware she sounded both arrogant and dumbstruck, and she wasn’t sure which one was more embarrassing.

 

“I can’t, Deb. We’ve...um...” Lou trailed off as she ran her hands over the jacket, finally reaching inside one of the unusually deep pockets and pulling out a similar black box. “We’ve got a little bit of a problem.”

 

_Ohhhhhh._

Wow.

Debbie in her chair and Lou on the couch, they sat at attention, staring each other down in what would surely go down as the most awkward engagement ring standoff in history.

 

Debbie was the first to speak. “Lou...has that been in that jacket this _whole time_?”

 

Lou nodded.

 

“That’s the jacket you had on the night of – ”

 

“Yeah.” Lou nodded again, albeit a little slower this time.

 

“Holy shit...”

 

“I’ve waited a long time for this, Deb. You think I’m just going to waste the opportunity?” Lou was smiling like the goddamn Cheshire Cat.

 

“I’m sorry, I almost had a heart attack just now, and now you’re not letting me propose to you? What meds do they have you on again? They’re making you delusional.”

 

“Oh, a heart attack, huh? Intense. Not like I almost _died_ a month ago or anything.” Lou pursed her lips. “Please let me have this.”

 

“And what will you do if I _don’t_ let you have this?”

 

“Oh, then we’re breaking up.”

 

Even through the sarcasm, both Debbie and Lou could see that there were about to be some tears from both sides.

 

“Well. Definitely can’t let that happen, can I?” Debbie pulled her chair over to Lou’s side. “Go ahead.”

 

Gently pulling Debbie down so that their foreheads were touching, Lou held the back of her neck with her free hand and whispered, “Will you marry me?”

 

“Of course, baby. _Of course_ I’ll marry you.” Debbie captured Lou’s lips with her own and kissed her like she’d never kissed her before, only pulling away when she felt Lou begin to tremble.

 

Haphazardly wiping her cheek with the back of her hand, Lou slid the diamond onto Debbie’s finger and allowed Debbie to do the same for her. Wrapping their hands together, Lou shook her head before letting out a watery laugh.

 

“Some fiancé. You didn’t even bother to get down on one knee,” she sighed, running her free hand through Debbie’s hair.

 

“Neither did you.”

 

“I _physically can’t_ , what’s your excuse?”

 

“Old age.”

 

“Oh, _right_. I forgot we’re both decrepit.”

 

“At least we’ll be decrepit together.”

 

“Indeed.” Lou smiled.

 

“And besides,” Debbie lowered her voice to a truly sinful level. “Since when have we ever given in to tradition?”

 

Lou nodded and gave a little hum of agreement. “Tradition flew out the window the moment you stepped out of prison.” She paused. “That’s when I knew that this would happen someday.”

 

“What?”

 

“This.” Lou pointedly eyed the rings on their fingers. “I didn’t know when exactly but...I like to think I knew ahead of time.”

 

“Please tell me you won’t be this sentimental during the wedding.”

 

“I make no promises. And don’t pretend you don’t like it.”

 

“Never said that.” Debbie kissed her again. “Lou Miller, you are a goddamn supernova and if I could give you the entire world, I would, with no hesitation.”

 

“Hmm. _Now_ who’s sentimental?”

 

“Still you.”

 

“Agree to disagree, Deborah. You sound like a Hallmark card.”

 

Debbie rested her head on Lou’s shoulder and glanced at their hands, still intertwined.

 

“Whatever you say, baby.”

 

*

 

**_day forty-eight_ **

 

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Debbie murmured against Lou’s lips, before pulling back just enough to look her straight in the eye.

 

“Honey, I’ve never been _more_ okay in my life.” Tightening her grip on Debbie’s hips, Lou leaned forward and caught Debbie’s bottom lip between her teeth.

 

She was home.

 

Finally, finally, _finally_ home.

 

Just for the weekend. Then it would be back to Montefiore, and back to physical therapy, and back to Debbie feeling for Lou’s hand in the middle of the night and finding her side of the bed cold.

 

Debbie had picked her up at dusk, braving the rain that was pummeling the city streets, and the two had gone out to dinner, looking every bit the happy couple that everyone knew they were.

 

When Debbie parked the old Toyota outside the loft, she had turned towards Lou and brushed a piece of hair behind her ear.

 

“Can you handle the stairs or do you want me to carry you in?”

 

“Very funny.”

 

“Who said I was joking? The queen has returned to her castle, it’s a cause for celebration.”

 

“If I’m the queen, what does that make you? The palace squatter?”

 

“Your long-suffering maid.”

 

“Oh, now _that_ is certainly an image.”

 

“Down, girl. Let’s get in the house first.”

 

Opening the car door for her fiancé – Debbie wasn’t sure she’d _ever_ get used to saying that – Debbie watched as Lou hoisted herself up with the help of her trusty cane, its silver snakehead and ruby red eyes gleaming under the street lamps.

 

Debbie wouldn’t be surprised if she found out those were real rubies.

 

Slowly but surely, Lou made her way up the stairs, Debbie following right behind with her hand pressed onto the small of Lou’s back to steady her. Pushing the door to the loft open with her hip, Lou stood just inside the entrance, leaning against a wall, taking it all in.

 

“We tried not to move too much around.”

 

Lou nodded. “Whose flowers are those?”

 

“Amita thought you’d like them. She put a different bouquet in every room.”

 

“Of course she did.” Lou took a few steps toward the couch before sinking down onto it and surveying the room, a pensive look on her face.

 

“Everything okay?” Debbie glanced at Lou from the kitchen, where she was getting one of Lou’s more expensive bottles of vodka out of the cabinet.

 

“Yeah...if I took a nap now, what are the odds I’d be able to wake up in an hour?”

 

“You just got back and all you want to do is _sleep_?” Debbie sauntered over, two shot glasses in one hand and the bottle of Grey Goose in the other.

 

“Unless you have any better ideas.”

 

“Oh, baby, I could think of _plenty_.” Pouring them a shot each, Debbie held her glass up. “Cheers.”

 

They clinked the glasses together and downed the alcohol in seconds.

 

“Shit,” Lou coughed. “Been a while.”

 

“Don’t tell me that your tolerance level has magically changed over the past two months. I can’t drink all of this by myself.”

 

“I’d like to see you try.” Lou settled her hands behind her head and threw her legs onto the couch so her feet were settled in Debbie’s lap, a smug grin on her face. “Go on.”

 

“You remember what happened the last time you made me pound shots like that?” Debbie’s thumb pressed circles into the side of Lou’s foot.

 

“Mhmm. You still haven’t reimbursed me for those shoes you ruined.”

 

“Buy your own damn shoes, you’re rich now.”

 

“Forgive me if I’d actually like to be treated every now and then.”

 

“Interesting,” Debbie purred, pushing Lou’s feet off her lap and sliding towards her. “How about right now?”

 

“I think I’ll need another drink for that.”

 

“Very funny.” Debbie pressed her lips to Lou’s jawline, then her neck. “Come on, baby.” Debbie’s eyes glinted. “Let me fuck you.”

 

Lou’s breath hitched in her throat, a sound which was not lost on Debbie, before letting out a low laugh. “You don’t waste any time, do you?”

 

“Well, considering that we’ve wasted two months...” Debbie left the ghost of a kiss on Lou’s collarbone and lifted her head to whisper in Lou’s ear. “Let me take care of you.” She pulled back to look at Lou. “Before you know it, we’re going to be having boring, married people sex.”

 

Lou bit back a smile. “When you put it that way...” Putting her hands on Debbie’s hips, she pulled her close until there was no space left between their bodies, Debbie grinding down on Lou’s hips as Lou moved her tongue into Debbie’s mouth and settled her hands firmly on Debbie’s ass.

 

Lou moaned as Debbie’s fingertips grazed the top of the elastic beneath her pants, and Debbie pressed her lips to Lou’s neck once more.

 

“You like that, baby?”

 

Lou twisted her neck away from Debbie and took her chin in her hand, before growling, “Not here.”

 

Their clothes ended up making a little trail from the couch to the bedroom, Debbie’s heels, then Lou’s blazer, then the rest of Debbie’s clothes, and finally, the rest of Lou’s.

 

Leaning against the closet door, Debbie kept Lou’s arms pinned above her with one hand and worked at the buttons on her blouse with the other.

 

“You know if I do something you don’t feel ready for, you can tell me, right?”

 

“Just get the damn shirt off, Deborah.”

 

Debbie couldn’t have been more unprepared for what lay underneath. It was lingerie she had never seen before, lace, deep maroon, barely hiding Lou’s nipples under the delicate fabric.

 

“Jesus _Christ_ , Lou...”

 

Lou winked. “Good to know I can still surprise you.”

 

Debbie practically threw her on the bed.

 

Sliding Lou’s panties down her legs and unhooking the bra, Debbie pressed her mouth to Lou’s breast, tongue rolling over her nipple as Lou stared at her and bit her lip, eyes shining in the moonlight.

 

When she tried to kiss Debbie’s hipbone, Debbie grabbed her hand instead. “Not tonight. What did I say?” A kiss on her forehead. “This is about you.”

 

Lou stared up at her girl in wonder. Lou Miller knew a lot of things. She knew most of all that she was the luckiest woman on the _planet_ right now.

 

“Well,” she finally said. “I’m yours, then.”

 

Keeping one hand on Lou’s breast, Debbie slid down the length of Lou’s body, grazing her lips over the perfect skin of her stomach, her hipbones, her inner thighs. Spreading her legs just a little wider, Debbie settled into what was easily her favorite spot in the universe, head between Lou’s thighs. She could feel herself grow damper at the sight of Lou – taut nipples, eyes closed, already glistening pink before Debbie had so much as touched her.

 

 _Fuck_ , she would do anything for this woman. _To_ this woman. Debbie Ocean did not get on her knees for just anyone, but with Lou, it would always be different.

 

Pressing the flat of her tongue to Lou’s slick folds, Debbie could hear her lover’s quiet whimpers build and grow, especially when Debbie varied her pace, making sure to keep rolling one nipple between her thumb and index finger. She was a good multitasker.

 

And this was her favorite version of Lou and the sex and they had. Because while Debbie lived for the way Lou would curl her fingers into her, or the way she gripped Debbie’s hair, and _especially_ for that one time Debbie had walked into the loft and was greeted by the sight of Lou on the couch, moaning and moaning as she touched herself, the thing that got Debbie off most of all was the fact that she was the only person to know Lou this way. To know that while sex with Lou was almost always intensely passionate and boisterous and loud, Lou just melted when Debbie took things slow. 

 

For Lou, sex was easy and uncomplicated, but throw Debbie into the mix and her sanity just flew out the window.

 

With Debbie, Lou couldn’t help but be needy and open and breathtakingly _vulnerable_ , so vulnerable that Debbie often worried that if she applied just the tiniest amount of additional pressure, Lou would just shatter.

 

Debbie grinned against her as she felt Lou arch her back and one of her hands came down to tangle itself in Debbie’s hair.

 

A strangled “ _fuck..._ ” escaped her lips and Debbie waited eagerly for her to say something else, but no words came.

 

Circling Lou’s clit with the tip of her tongue, Debbie thought about just how much she had _missed this,_ the sight of her, the taste of her. She cursed herself for not taking her up on that offer to get in bed with her a few weeks ago. Debbie thought she would have hurt her; clearly, that wouldn’t have been the case.

 

As she closed her lips around Lou’s clit and sucked, Debbie waited for the inevitable buck of Lou’s hips – this was the shit Lou _lived_ for – and when it didn’t happen, Debbie could sense something had changed.

 

Lou’s hand had moved from its spot in Debbie’s hair to the side of the bed, and she was clutching the sheet as if her life depended on it. It was hot, but it was unlike her; Debbie could see that her fingers were quivering.

 

And then – _wait a second._

Debbie relinquished her hold on Lou’s breast and brought her hand down a bit so that it was resting just above her stomach.

 

Alarm set in as Debbie scooted back, wiped her chin with the back of her hand and crept back up the bed until she was straddling Lou and placing her hands on the sides of her neck.

 

“Lou, breathe. Breathe.”

 

Lou’s eyes were clenched tight, her lips locked in a grimace. She let out a shuddering breath at Debbie’s words, opening her eyes and searching for Debbie’s own. She blinked a bit, Debbie staring down at her, not even bothering to hide the fear etched over her face.

 

“You’re here with me. You’re okay. What happened? Did I do something wrong?”

 

“ _No_ , Deb, God no. You’re incredible. I just can’t...” Lou trailed off, glancing off to the side at nothing in particular as her brow furrowed. “My body...I don’t...it doesn’t feel like my body is mine.”

 

“I’m sorry, baby, but I don’t understand.”

 

“I...I don’t know what happened. I got this feeling that I wasn’t actually _here_. Like I was watching us and I knew that that was _me,_ but I wasn’t actually in my body. It’s...I don’t know. I tried. I tried to be here.” Lou grew uncomfortably quiet. “I don’t know.”

 

“Do you want me to stop?”

 

Lou nodded, avoiding looking Debbie in the eyes.

 

“Okay.” Debbie hoped she didn’t sound disappointed, because she wasn’t. She was concerned. “Come here.”

 

Settling into the crook of Debbie’s arm, Lou rested her head against her and sighed.

 

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled.

 

“Don’t you dare apologize.”

 

Lou lifted her head. “I can still...”

 

Debbie shook her head no. “It’s okay.”

 

Silence.

 

“I’m so tired, Deb.”

 

Debbie glanced down at the blonde head on her chest.

 

_Please be okay._

Lou’s hands came into focus in the dark, and Debbie noticed that she hadn’t taken off her engagement ring.

 

“I know, baby. Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> even when i try to not be angsty, i get angsty. why am i like this?? the world may never know.
> 
> shout out to the love of my life, AO3 user aster_risk, for being my personal partner in crime when it comes to the Snake Cane Universe.
> 
> two chapters and an epilogue left, folks. get excited (or cry) [whatever you want] {i'm not picky}
> 
> please please pLEASE with cherries on top, leave a comment!! I thrive on feedback and would love to hear your words (especially if you can tell me how to wRITE SMUT BECAUSE HOLY CRAP I CANNOT. i love that my smut just turned into more introspective Debbie. Because of COURSE she'd make sex methodical. God love her.)
> 
> Love you, bye <3


	6. left behind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh.
> 
> hi.
> 
> holy shit i'm back.
> 
> After starting senior year of college and performing in a play for the past month and a half, chapter six is FINALLY here. Thanks to everyone who's read, loved, and supported this fic from the very beginning. It's truly become my baby aaaaaand since I finally figured out the exact trajectory of how it's ending, it's going to end up a total of 10 chapters instead of the original 7! woo more story!!
> 
> Clocking in at almost 10.2k words, this is also the longest chapter so far. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy, and as always, please please PLEASE leave a comment and let me know Your Thoughts <3

“Ms. Miller isn’t seeing any visitors today.”

 

Debbie’s eyebrows practically hit her hairline.

 

It was common knowledge around Montefiore that Debbie and Barbara _hated_ one another. Of the three receptionists who worked the morning shift, Barbara was undoubtedly the worst. She reminded Debbie of an aunt she had growing up, not Aunt Ida, bless her heart, but her Aunt Noreen – she wore too much makeup and hugged way too tight, and she’d always be the one to rat you out to your parents, just for the sheer amusement of seeing you punished.

 

Okay, maybe she was exaggerating a little. Barbara seemed like a perfectly reasonable cat lady, but it was the way she’d look at Debbie, that sneer on her crusty old lips, that made Debbie want to rip her hair out (both hers _and_ Barbara’s).

 

Today, that feeling was back with a vengeance.

 

“What do you _mean_ she’s not seeing anyone? She knew I was coming today.” Debbie tried to keep her voice at a steady level.

 

“She put in the request about two hours ago. Said she’s tired and doesn’t want anyone coming in or out of her room for the rest of the day.”

 

“I’m her _fiancé._ ”

 

“I know who you are. I also know I can have security up here in thirty seconds.” Barbara’s hand hovered over the phone on the right side of her desk. “I suggest you come back another time.”

 

“And _I_ suggest you take that old, wrinkled finger and shove it up your – ”

 

“ _Hey_ , hey, let’s calm down, we’re all friends here, right?” Andrew let out a forced chuckle before grabbing Debbie’s arm and pulling her into a corridor. Once they were out of sight, Debbie yanked her arm away and lightly smacked his perfectly toned bicep.

 

“Andrew, what the hell?”

 

“Okay, _ow._ Calm down.”

 

“Don’t tell me to calm down! I’m not exactly in the mood to _calm down_!”

 

“Fine. But I can’t let you in her room, Debbie. I can’t. I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

 

Debbie narrowed her eyes and shook her head. “Why? What’s the reasoning?”

 

“Did anything happen over the weekend? Any sort of setback?”

 

Debbie could feel the heat begin creeping up the back of her neck.

 

“Deb?”

 

Nothing.

 

“Debbie, what _happened_?”

 

Lou had been awfully quiet in the days following the incident. When they woke up together that next morning, Lou curled herself into Debbie’s side even further and snaked an arm around her waist.

 

“Hey. Lou. _Lou_ ,” Debbie whispered as she nudged her gently. “Gotta pee.”

 

Lou mumbled something incomprehensible into Debbie’s armpit before letting her arm fall away.

 

“Thank you.” Setting her feet on the hardwood floor, Debbie cringed a little bit when her knee popped. When did she get so old? “Do you want anything to drink?”

 

Lou shoved her face into the pillow, ignoring the hand Debbie had placed on her shoulder.

 

“Alright, well, I’ll only be a few minutes, then. If you need me, call me.”

 

Lou just rolled over again.

 

As Debbie poured the water from the tea kettle into her mug, she rubbed the side of her neck and glanced back towards the bedroom.

 

She was so fucking worried about her.

 

There was something about the look in her eyes last night. Even when Lou was at her worst, physically, emotionally, mentally, what have you, her eyes stayed clear. There was a special kind of magic in the way Lou looked at Debbie, and Debbie could feel it.

 

Last night, her eyes had glazed over, and Debbie had no idea how to handle it.

 

She’d used a lot of words to describe Lou Miller over the years, but ‘lost’ was never one of them, until now.

 

They communicated with looks. The way that Lou would crinkle her nose or lift an eyebrow could get Debbie completely attuned to what she was thinking.

 

So to think that Debbie was losing her again, after _just_ finding their way back to each other...it was too much to bear.

 

For the first time, Debbie wondered how the hell they were going to move past this.

 

And it wasn’t about the sex, of _course_ it wasn’t about the sex. It was about the way that Lou laid there in that bed, barely moving, barely _breathing_ , clutching onto the sheets as if her life depended on it. Clutching onto the sheets the way she _should_ be clutching Debbie’s hand.

 

Debbie had to shake the thought from her mind before her mug overflowed.

 

Walking back into their room, Debbie slowed to a halt when she realized the bed was empty, comforter practically falling off the way it always did when Lou literally kicked her way out of the sheets.

 

As she moved towards the dim glow coming from their bathroom, Debbie prepared for the worst. Luckily, Lou wasn’t passed out on the floor, or hunched over the toilet bowl; instead, she was leaning against the sink, running a brush through her hair, staring at herself in the mirror.

 

“Hey, you.”

 

Lou tore her eyes away for a moment to look at Debbie, who was standing at the edge of the room, through the mirror.

 

“Hey.”

 

Debbie set her mug down, then stood beside her and took hold of the brush’s handle, fixing Lou with a sideways glance until she relinquished her hold on it. “Let me,” Debbie said with a whisper, sliding her other arm around Lou’s waist to give her a little support.

 

The brush glided through Lou’s hair effortlessly as Debbie made sure it was parted the way Lou liked, just off-center so as not to mess up her bangs.

 

“How’d you get over here, hmm? Did you have to hobble?” teased Debbie.

 

Lou gave her a tiny smile in response.

 

As Debbie tried to focus on finishing Lou’s hair, she couldn’t help but notice the way Lou continued to slump against the bathroom wall and stare at the tiles on the floor. She was shaking.

 

“You cold, baby?”

 

“No.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yeah...”

 

Lou’s voice trailed off, and Debbie laid the brush on the edge of the sink, bringing both her hands to clutch at Lou’s biceps.

 

“Lou. Look at me.”

 

As Lou obliged, Debbie swallowed hard – a precaution she always took to keep her voice from breaking in situations like this (though there had never really been a situation _quite_ like this one).

 

“Do you want to go back?” Debbie started gently. “We can go now. I’ll come see you on Tuesday. Do you want to?”

 

Lou stared at her, steely and unmovable.

 

“I won’t be mad if you do. I promise.”

 

In over twenty years, Debbie didn’t think she had ever seen Lou look this defeated, and as Lou nodded, she pulled Debbie into an embrace that left Debbie feeling more abandoned than comforted.

 

As Andrew waited for Debbie’s response, she turned her head in the direction of Lou’s room.

 

“Yeah. Something happened. But I don’t know what. It’s why I brought her back early.”

 

“She hasn’t been herself. At all,” Andrew shook his head. “She’s essentially ready to be discharged. Her range of motion is almost back to what it was before the incident. But something has definitely changed. She...she just hasn’t been talking to me. It’s really not my place to say since it’s not my area of expertise, but...I don’t know. Has she considered antidepressants?”

 

Debbie laughed. “Please.”

 

“I’m serious. She’s been through a lot in the past few months, it wouldn’t be uncommon for there to be something going on.”

 

“She doesn’t need more _meds_ , _Andrew.”_ Debbie liked Andrew, she really did. Liked him and trusted him enough that she didn’t mind having Lou checked in under her real name and not an alias. But he really needed to shut the fuck up.

In the few weeks Debbie had known him, she’d never seen Andrew angry until this very moment. “You know what she needs?”

 

“I’m her partner.”

 

“And you’re a licensed, certified mental health practitioner, correct?”

 

Debbie rolled her eyes. “Stop it.”

 

“Look, Deb, I get it. It’s hard. It’s difficult when they’re suffering. But right now, all any of us can do is listen to what she wants and give her some space. I’m going to be here ‘round the clock for the next few days, just because I’m concerned. If you want to call, I’ll make sure you get directed to me. Other than that...maybe try coming back on Thursday.”

 

If it hadn’t been for Lou’s sake, Debbie wouldn’t have backed down.

 

“Can I just...” Debbie gestured towards the tiny window on Lou’s door. Andrew nodded.

 

Stepping towards the door, Debbie kept her hand rested on the doorknob until Andrew cleared his throat.

 

As she peeked through the glass, Debbie could just make out a head of wild blonde hair and hunched shoulders covered in blankets, facing the windowsill away from Debbie. As far as Debbie could tell, she was asleep.

 

Debbie let out a sigh.

 

_Come on, baby. You can do this._

*

 

“I look like Janis Joplin.”

 

“Yeah, you totally do,” laughed Constance, before furrowing her brow. “Wait, who is Janis Joplin?”

 

Debbie sighed as she made sure Lou’s guitar case was secure on her back. It had been a last-minute decision to bring it to her today, but Debbie was desperate for something, _anything_ , that would possibly bring Lou a little joy. She’d thrown together a bag with some essentials – a leather jacket, her favorite perfume, the newest issue of _Bike_ magazine – and figured the guitar would be a nice added bonus.

 

Debbie had asked if Constance would come for the same reason. Debbie knew Lou would have preferred to see Nine-Ball or Rose or...anyone but Daphne, really, but Constance knew how to make her laugh.

 

“Sooooo I’m probably not allowed to film in here, huh?”

 

“No.”

 

“Ah, fuck. _Hot Lesbian in Hospital Bed_ would have really generated some views. Gotta get that clickbait money, y’know what I’m sayin’?”

 

“Don’t make fun of her.”

 

“I’m not!” Constance nudged Debbie’s side. “Seriously. I’m not. I want mom back home just as much as you do.”

 

“Yeah.” They rounded another corner. “Yeah, I know you do.”

 

Andrew was flipping through some papers behind the front desk when Debbie and Constance came through the sliding doors.

 

“Dude!!” Constance practically jumped into his arms. “What up?! How you been?” Debbie shot her a look when she noticed Constance’s fingers dancing over Andrew’s watch.

 

“Good, good. No complaints,” smiled Andrew. “You guys ready?”

 

They made their way down the hall, Constance eventually getting distracted by the vending machine once again. As they waited for her to decide between the Famous Amos chocolate chip cookies and some Flamin’ Hot Cheetos, Andrew leaned in to mumble in Debbie’s ear.

 

“She hasn’t been eating.”

 

Debbie didn’t say anything.

 

“Well, okay, that’s not entirely true. She’s been eating _very little._ She had some oatmeal this morning. Some crackers here and there. But other than that...”

 

“I’ll talk to her.”

 

“If you think it’ll help, go right ahead. We can’t discharge her if – ”

 

“I’ll _talk to her_ , Andrew.”

 

“Talk to who about what?” Neither Debbie nor Andrew had noticed Constance reappear and practically attach herself to Debbie’s hip. She glanced down at the bags in her hands. “Is this about the Cheetos? Look, y’all know I don’t _play_ when it comes to my Flamin’ Hot Cheetos! And no, I won’t _share,_ either!”

 

Andrew’s eyes darted between the two women. “...okay. I’ll be right out here if you guys need me.” Knocking on the door and opening it just enough so he could poke his head through, Andrew called, “Hey Lou? Someone’s here to see you.”

 

Constance was first through the door. “It’s me! You know you missed me.”

 

Debbie heard Lou laugh as she shut the door behind her. “Wouldn’t go that far, kid.”

 

“Hey!”

 

“You try to steal any of my shit, me and Deb’ll disown you.”

 

“You know you’re not _actually_ my mom, right?”

 

“Hmm, I don’t know about that.” Lou tilted her chin towards the ceiling so she could reach her fiancé’s lips. “She has my bone structure, wouldn’t you say, Deb?”

 

“I’ve never seen a mother and daughter look more alike.”

 

“Oh, so y’all got jokes today? Mmkay. I see how it is.” Constance slumped into the couch by the windowsill. “Won’t be laughing when you make it onto my Insta story.”

 

Lou shook her head, then settled her eyes on Debbie, who was perched at the end of her bed, knees curled up, just barely touching Lou’s legs under the covers. Lou smiled at her, the bags under her eyes dark and prominent.

 

“Brought you some stuff.”

 

“Oh?”

 

As Lou looked through the contents of the bag and Constance played an aggressive round of Angry Birds, Debbie unzipped the guitar case. “Where do you want this?”

 

Something like discomfort flashed over Lou’s eyes. “Oh. Um...” Debbie noticed the way Lou was chewing on her lip. “Over there.”

 

“Okay. Unless you...” Debbie held the guitar out towards Lou, who shook her head.

 

“God no. Not now.”

 

“...alright.” Debbie leaned the instrument against the wall under the television, then pulled up a chair. “You look tired, baby.”

 

“I am.”

 

“Andrew told me you’ve been getting some rest, though. That’s good.”

 

“I feel like I could sleep for days.”

 

“Retweet!” Constance tossed her Cheetos bag into the trash.

 

“Ideally, you won’t be sleeping for _days_.” Too much sleep was never a good sign, but Debbie didn’t want to press the issue. Too early for that.

 

Lou smirked. “All the things I would do in an ideal world...”

 

“Yeah? Like what exactly?”

 

“Well,” Lou cleared her throat and absentmindedly tapped her fingernails along the edge of her watch. “I’d bring Bowie back, first off.”

 

“Naturally.”

 

“And then...I don’t know. We’d be married already.”

 

Debbie gave her a tiny smile, tinged with regret. “Yeah. That one’s on me.”

 

“Stop.” Lou covered Debbie’s hand with her own. “We got there eventually.” When Debbie nodded, Lou continued. “I guess I’d make sure shit was taken care of, you know? Debts cleared. People happy. And I wouldn’t be sick, that’s for damn sure.”

 

“You’re not _that_ sick.”

 

“I’m pretty sick, Deb.”

 

“Epilepsy’s a disorder, right? Not an illness?”

 

“Well, either way, it can fuck right off.”

 

Debbie ran her fingers over Lou’s forearm. “Hey. Truth?”

 

Lou blinked. “...sure.”

 

It was almost like a game they played. They were both so used to the fabrication, so ingrained in this life they’d built around _avoidance_ and _silence_ and _anonymity_ , sometimes it was difficult to shake it. But they found a system that worked for them.

 

Their heads swiveled towards Constance.

 

Debbie rummaged through her purse. “Here’s ten bucks. Get as many Cheetos as you want.”

 

“Oh _shit!_ That’s so many bags, my dudes!” Constance was off the couch in a flash.

 

“Can you bring me some Twizzlers, too?”

 

Constance gave Debbie a salute. Then she was gone.

 

Debbie turned her attention back to Lou, who hadn’t taken her eyes off Debbie.

 

“What’s going on...” Debbie paused to caress Lou’s head, running her fingers through her hair before tapping a finger against Lou’s temple. “...up here? Hmm? How’s it been these past few days?”

 

They sat for what felt like forever, blue eyes piercing brown, until Lou sighed. “Not great.”

 

Debbie nodded. “Yeah, that’s what I was afraid of.”

 

“It’s not as bad as it was on Saturday.”

 

“That’s good.”

 

“But it’s still...I don’t know, weird? Uncomfortable?”

 

“Tell me what it feels like. Help me understand.”

 

“Deb, it’s – ”

 

“ _Please_ , baby.” Debbie took both of Lou’s hands in her own. “I want to help you. I want you to come home. If there’s _anything_ I can do – ”

 

“Deb, I need to do this alone. I need time.”

 

“Well, you’re doing a real bang-up job by yourself. You can only starve yourself for so long,” Debbie stated plainly. “Sorry. Andrew told me.”

 

Lou stared at her fingernails.

 

“Why aren’t you eating?”

 

“I _eat_ , Deborah.”

 

“That sandwich looks pretty uneaten to me.”

 

Lou looked at her nightstand, where she had placed the blue ceramic plate approximately thirty minutes before Debbie and Constance had arrived, and thirty seconds after Andrew had brought it to her and left the room.

 

“I just don’t have much of an appetite, that’s all.”

 

“Lou, I’ve seen you eat an entire pizza in one sitting. Don’t bullshit me.”

 

“Close the door.”

 

When Debbie made her way back to Lou’s side, the door was shut and the curtains were drawn. As Debbie moved to sit back down, Lou shook her head and scooted over in her bed. After some situating, they were cuddled up together, Lou’s head on Deb’s shoulder, Debbie’s hand rubbing Lou’s thigh.

 

“Half the time, I’m fine. No complaints. A little groggy, I guess, but I’m _okay._ And then...” Lou bit her lip. “It’s – it’s like...there’s a veil. A long, grey veil made of...what are veils typically made of?”

 

“Tulle?”

 

“Sure, why not, tulle, and it’s over my head and because it’s grey, it’s distorting my vision. I can still see through it. But everything looks different. Everything’s a different color and blurry and while I know my vision is _fine_ , something is different and I don’t know if it’s something I can change or...” She shook her head once more. “I’m sorry, that probably doesn’t make much sense, either...”

 

“No, no, I think I get it. But I don’t understand what that has to do with you not eating.”

 

“It’s not that I don’t _want_ to eat, I just...I’ll get stuck on feeling like shit and I won’t want to do _anything._ For hours. But I do eat, Deb. I will. I promise I will.” Lou was on the verge of tears and she sounded like a child. “It’s just hard.”

 

Debbie pressed Lou’s head into her shoulder. “Don’t cry, baby. Don’t cry. It’s okay. We’re gonna get through this.”

 

“I’m so sorry.”

 

“Stop _apologizing_ , Lou. This isn’t your fault. All I’m trying to do is make sure you’re okay. I don’t care about what you did or didn’t eat earlier in the week. Do you think you could eat right now?”

 

Lou looked up at her. “...is this a proposition or...?”

 

Debbie couldn’t help but laugh at that. “No, idiot. I’m not on the menu at the moment.”

 

“Uhhh, good, ‘cause I was ‘bout to keep these Twizzlers for myself.”

 

Lifting their heads, Debbie and Lou were met with the sight of Constance shuffling her feet, holding several bags of Cheetos, with some Twizzlers balanced right on top. She tossed the bag to Debbie. “Here you go, mom. Do you guys, um, do you want me to leave again?” Constance almost looked shy.

 

Debbie eyed Lou, who cleared her throat and tossed her head towards the couch. “Relax. Stay a while.”

 

As Constance got settled on the couch once more, Debbie tore open the Twizzlers package and took a bite. “Mmm. Strawberry wax.”

 

“The cherry ones aren’t half bad.”

 

“Really? I’ll have to try them.” Debbie pointed at the nightstand table with the other end of the Twizzler. “Just like you should try that sandwich.”

 

Lou groaned. “Deb...”

 

“Just eat half of it. Please.”

 

“Since when did you turn into my mother?”

 

“I’m not leaving until you eat something.”

 

Lou furrowed her brow. “You should know by now that I don’t let anyone tell me what to do. Even you.”

 

“I know, baby. You don’t have to eat _now_ if you don’t want to. Just...y’know, eat. Eventually.”

 

Lou was quiet. “...if I eat this too quickly I’m going to be sick again.”

 

“So take it slow. One bite at a time.”

 

Constance threw another Cheetos bag away. “If you don’t want it, I _will_ eat that sandwich.”

 

“Oh no, you won’t. You already eat all my leftovers even when they’re clearly marked.” Lou grabbed one of Debbie’s Twizzlers and threw it at Constance’s face. “You don’t get the sandwich.”

 

“Damn. And I was really looking forward to it.” Constance grinned as she ripped the Twizzler in half.

 

Two minutes later, Lou started eating her sandwich.

 

*

 

Her hands buried deep in the pockets of her grey jacket, Debbie bit back a smile as she strode down the hallway.

 

Lou was coming home tomorrow.

 

Debbie hadn’t been to visit since she and Constance managed to convince her to try and rejoin the world of the living, and that was an entire week ago. They’d spoken on the phone every day since then, and Debbie had wanted to keel over and sob when she realized that Lou was finally sounding like herself again. There was one minor setback involving a nightmare that had set Lou’s anxiety skyrocketing, but Debbie had been able to talk her down. It made her realize just how sickeningly _ironic_ this all was; _she_ was the one with the nightmares. Not Lou. _Lou_ was the strong one, no matter how hard Debbie liked to pretend that it was her. Lou being in such a vulnerable state meant there was a whole lot of added pressure on Debbie’s shoulders; to be a good partner, friend, lover, fiancé, the whole nine yards.

 

Debbie wasn’t sure how she was going to handle it.

 

But no matter. She could worry about that another time.

 

One of the windows was cracked open when Debbie entered the room, and Lou, dressed a little atypically in a sweater and jeans, was leaning out, one arm propped up on the windowsill. Debbie could see the rising smoke from fifteen feet away.

 

“ _Hey.”_

Lou jumped and leaned out a little further as she stared at the grass below. With a sigh, she turned around. “Hi, honey. You scared me.”

 

“You drop your cigarette?”

 

“Yup. Thanks for that.”

 

“How the hell’d you get a pack in here?”

 

Lou blinked as if it were obvious. “Nine.”

 

“Nine smokes _kush_. You have some of that around too?”

 

“You seem irritated.”

 

“You’re gonna get in trouble on your last day here!”

 

“Says the woman who went to _prison_.”

 

Debbie rolled her eyes. “Just don’t want you getting caught, that’s all.”

 

Lou smirked before walking over and leaning against the bedframe. She pulled Debbie’s hips towards her. “Love, if there’s one thing I am _especially_ good at, it’s avoiding getting caught partaking in illegal activities. Or associating with known felons.” Lou kissed a short line up from Debbie’s collarbone to the tip of her ear.

 

“Who, me?”

 

“Yes, you, you deliciously sinful woman.” Lou took Debbie’s chin between her fingers. “Come here.”

 

“Nope. You know my rule. I’m not kissing you when you’ve been smoking.”

 

“You don’t play fair.”

 

“Never have, never will,” Debbie winked. “And there will be plenty of time for kissing and other things of that nature once you’re home tomorrow.” She examined the room. “Did you get everything done? I thought I was helping you pack.”

 

Lou scuffed the heel of her boot along the floor. “Yeah, there’s just um...just some clothes left.”

 

“You okay?”

 

“Mhmm.”

 

“Lou.”

 

Their eyes met. Lou crossed her arms.

 

“Feels weird to be leaving.”

 

“ _Good_ weird, or...?”

 

“I guess.”

 

“You _guess?_ ”

 

Lou’s eyes were glassy. She wasn’t going to cry, Debbie could tell, but she looked a lot more intense than usual.

 

“I’m actually a little worried.”

 

“About...?”

 

“About keeping it together, I guess. I’m not exactly the epitome of a healthy person right now, Deb.”

 

“Hey. Don’t start with that,” Debbie grabbed her hand. “We’re going to get through this together. You and me. Like we always do.”

 

“I shouldn’t be burdening you in the first place.”

 

Debbie could hardly believe what she was hearing. This wasn’t her Lou. Her strong, sharp, badass Lou was nowhere to be found.

 

“You’re _not_ , baby. You could never be a burden to me.” Debbie adjusted the collar of Lou’s sweater. “You know, I spent almost six years in a prison cell and a lot of those days, I thought about you. And how I’d been a burden to _you_ for so long. And even then, you were the only thing that got me through. And that was before we even...” Debbie trailed off as she looked at their hands, fingers interlocked. She shook her head; no use mentioning the past right now when they had their entire future ahead of them. “Look. If there’s one thing I know about you, it’s that you’ve never been someone who just _gives up_. You always push through. And sometimes that scares the shit out of me. But there’s no way in hell I’m letting you deal with this all by yourself. I’m on your team, baby. Always will be.”

 

Lou stared at her for what felt like an eternity before closing her eyes and letting her forehead dip so they were even closer than before. Debbie smiled and gave her a little headbutt. “Come on. Gotta get the rest of this shit out of here.”

 

“It’s not shit.”

 

“Oh, the torn-up Blondie concert t-shirt from 1981 isn’t shit?”

 

“That is the _furthest thing_ from shit, Deborah, and you know it.”

 

“How old were you when this concert happened, hmm?”

 

“...six? Seven? I wasn’t _there_ , genius.”

 

“You do have a habit of finding the greatest things at Goodwill. Though I don’t know _why_ , you’ve got enough money to buy out every Goodwill in the country.”

 

“I like thrifting.”

 

“I know you do, baby.” Debbie thumbed through the remaining items of clothing hanging in Lou’s closet, smiling once she found the piece she was looking for. Sliding the leather onto her shoulders, Debbie flipped her hair before turning around. “What do you think?”

 

“Gorgeous as always.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah. Suits you.”

 

“I might steal it.”

 

“Oh, wouldn’t that be terrible?”

 

“Truly. Lot of people out there just want to take and take and take. It’s a shame.”

 

“Not you.”

 

Debbie’s smile fell. “Sorry?”

 

Lou shrugged. “You give, too. I don’t think you realize it. But you give. It’s a good thing.”

 

Taking the jacket off and folding it over Lou’s back, Debbie gave her a gentle kiss. “I love you.” She nodded towards the bags at the door. “I’m going to take those to the car. Might as well get a jump on tomorrow, right? Be right back.”

 

As Lou watched her leave, she set the jacket down on her bed and sighed.

 

She really didn’t deserve Debbie Ocean.

 

*

 

“You’re sure?”

 

“For the 28th time, Lou, _yes,_ I’m absolutely sure they’re not throwing a party. I told them they would lose any and all TV privileges if they tried anything.”

 

“Good that you’ve got them all on a tight leash.”

 

“Anything for you.”

 

As Lou made her way over to her front door, a suitcase in her left hand, her cane and her keys in her right, Debbie leaned against the side of the car and observed. Lou’s hair was falling in her face, and the tip of her tongue was poking the inside of her cheek as she tried to shake her keyring around until she found the right one. Lou turned just before putting the key in the lock.

 

“You coming in, or are you just going to keep staring?”

 

“I’m not staring.”

 

“Well, you’re certainly not _moving._ ”

 

“I’m...studying.”

 

Lou raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

 

“I don’t think you need the cane. You’re not limping anymore. You really do look good, baby.”

 

“Oh, honey. I’m blushing.”

 

“You actually are.”

 

Lou’s eyes widened. “Oh shit, really?”

 

Debbie snorted. “You weren’t, but you are now.” She winked. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist.”

 

Lou rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Alright, Ocean, get your ass over here. I have an entrance to make.”

 

Upon opening the door to the loft, Lou and Debbie were greeted with the sight of six women spread out in various positions in Lou’s living room. Everyone was nursing a beer, or maybe a glass of wine or two or six. And there was shouting. So much shouting.

 

From what they could gather, Constance, Amita and Nine-Ball were in the middle of an argument about the best restaurants in the city, while Daphne and Tammy recounted their teenage spring break misadventures to one another and Rose went back and forth between the whole group, loudly humming a song that she didn’t know the words to, to see if anyone could identify it.

 

“Nice to see that things haven’t changed.” Lou popped her gum.

 

When they realized that Lou and Debbie had returned, the group flanked them almost immediately, Tammy handing them both a glass of wine as Amita helped Lou with her bags and Nine cleared a space on the couch for the two of them to get settled in.

 

“Jesus, this is the nicest they’ve ever treated _me_.”

 

“Only nice to you by proxy, Deb,” Tammy smiled, before enveloping Lou in a tight hug. “So glad you’re back,” she murmured into Lou’s shoulder.

 

As it turned out, the rest of the crew _did_ , in fact, have plans for Lou’s big return home. Daphne had a new movie out. Several, actually; one currently in theatres in limited release, two big premiere blockbusters coming out (one of which would be attended by Constance; Daphne was really kicking herself for losing that bet), and the one they were currently about to start watching, entitled _Abigail’s Snake._

“So basically, my character is a member of this super-secret coven where everyone can like, shape-shift into different animals and inherit the souls of the damned.”

 

Amita squirmed. “I don’t think I’m gonna like this.”

 

“ _But_ it turns out that one of the coven members has been an agent of Satan the _entire time_ and they’re trying to kill us off one by one and we have to figure out who it is before we all burn in Hell forever! Yay!”

 

Lou set her glass down. “Haven’t you been nominated for an Academy Award?”

 

“Yes. Why?”

 

“Why are you still doing shit like this?”

 

“Um, rude. It’s fun. And it’s a paycheck.”

 

“Right. Because you really _need_ the money.”

 

Daphne scoffed. “You know, just because it’s _your_ house does not give you the right to be such a bitch.”

 

“No harm meant by it, love. You just don’t strike me as a video-on-demand type of girl.”

 

“Well...” Daphne rolled her eyes. “It was supposed to be distributed by Warner Brothers but they dumped it last minute because they don’t recognize creative integrity and they _suck_ at giving the people what they want.” When Daphne flipped her hair, her perfume wafted around the room. “And the people want _me._ ”

 

“Sure they do, sweetheart.”

 

“Okay, enough! Let’s watch!” Tammy grabbed the remote and pressed play before Daphne or Lou could get another word out.

 

What followed in the next 45 minutes was some of the most unnecessarily gratuitous violence Debbie had ever witnessed, and while she certainly appreciated the scene where Jessica Alba appeared topless, what she _didn’t_ appreciate was the constant tearing of flesh, snapping of necks and the way the blood just seemed to pour and pour and pour.

 

Debbie had been stabbed in prison.

 

 _Lightly_ stabbed, thank you very much. On her side, towards her back. And for once, it hadn’t been thanks to her last name. No, she just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

 

It hurt like a bitch. Cold metal giving way to unnatural, wet heat and then searing pain. She had passed out almost immediately. It hadn’t taken long for her to get patched up. For as many enemies as Debbie had made in prison, she had just as many contacts, if not more. And to be honest, she wasn’t sure if Danny had arranged something for her, or maybe it was Lou, but her cellmate was particularly good at fixing up wounds.

 

That first night out of prison, after Lou had taken such delight in Debbie’s makeshift shiv, she’d hijacked another one of the fortune cookies on the table before quietly making her way over to Debbie’s side, kneeling down and sliding her hand underneath her white jacket.

 

“What are you – oh.”

 

When Lou’s hand found the area she was looking for, she let her palm rest for a moment before speaking. “Hurts?”

 

Debbie shook her head.

 

“Make sure you’re cleaning it. Seems like the stitches have been holding, but...” She ran her free hand through her hair. “Can’t be too careful.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“I’ll see you in the morning, Deb.” Lou picked up her rabbit mask from the table and headed towards her bedroom.

 

Debbie hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that night for over two years now.

 

She knew this movie would only make her nightmares worse.

 

But this wasn’t about _her_ anymore.

 

Lou was clutching her hand tight, running her thumb along Debbie’s palm. Debbie wasn’t sure if she was trying to calm Debbie down or what, but either way, she was getting that look in her eye again, even as her gaze stayed glued to the floor.

 

_Good one, Daph. Let’s watch a horror movie with the woman who’s been living one for the past few months._

“Hey, guys?”

 

Everyone turned to look at Debbie.

 

“How about we finish this another time? Maybe pick another movie for now?”

 

Daphne started to protest, but after taking one look at Lou, she shut her mouth.

 

“Okay. Yeah. That’s fine.”

 

They decided on _When Harry Met Sally_ as a substitute.

 

Constance tossed a piece of popcorn into the air before catching it in her mouth. “This movie has just as many girls hysterically crying as the other one did. That’s wild.”

 

About half an hour into the movie, Lou stood up abruptly.

 

Debbie’s hand lingered on her wrist. “You okay, baby?”

 

“Yeah. Just gonna go lay down for a bit.”

 

Debbie stood. “I’ll go with you.”

 

“Deb, I’m _fine._ ”

 

“I know. But I want to go with you.”

 

“Deborah, seriously. I’ll be 20 minutes, tops. I just need to – the room is spinning, okay? I need to go.”

 

There was something wild and desperate in Lou’s eyes.

 

“Okay, Lou. Okay. Go.” The words had barely escaped Debbie’s lips before Lou turned on her heel and went towards their room.

 

Glancing towards the coffee table, Debbie noticed Lou’s glass of wine was still completely full.

 

Debbie didn’t have to look up to know that the rest of the crew was staring at her. Nine was the first to speak. “So I think we better go...”

 

“Don’t! Please stay. She’ll be back out in a little bit.”

 

“No, you guys should have the place to yourselves.” Amita smiled. “It’s okay.

 

Daphne smoothed her skirt down. “She’s right. I actually have to catch a flight in the morning and I’m not done packing yet.”

 

Constance and Tammy quickly followed suit, as Rose collected some of the bottles and took them into the kitchen.

 

Debbie stood at the edge of the loft, watching her friends leave, giving each of them a wave and a smile as they turned to look at her with worried fascination. When she walked into her bedroom, Lou was still in bed, fast asleep.

 

_You said twenty minutes, Lou. Twenty minutes._

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Debbie reached over and gently placed her hand on Lou’s stomach. Once she was sure she could feel the rise and fall of her diaphragm, Debbie squinted in the darkness, trying to find another blanket to cover her with, when all of a sudden, there was a small _thump_ just outside the door. Looking up, Debbie could see a much larger version of the blanket Rose had made for Lou laying in a pile.

 

Debbie examined the blanket. Wool and patchwork, it was cozy and it was also big enough to fully envelop two people. Carrying the blanket in and wrapping it around Lou’s frame, Debbie considered staying there with her for a while, then realized that the blanket couldn’t have just magically appeared. Rose must still be in their kitchen.

 

Sticking her hands in her pockets as she rounded the corner, Debbie leaned against the stove and watched Rose as she meticulously scrubbed at a spot on one of the pots left in the sink from when Constance tried (and failed) to make them all spaghetti last week. It was nice to know that Rose put just as much care and attention into washing a simple dish as she did the production of a beautiful gown.

 

“Thanks for the blanket.”

 

Rose adjusted her glasses. “I’d always meant for her to keep it. I just needed to add some finishing touches.”

 

“Well, it looks really good.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“I can finish these up, if you have anywhere you need to be.”

 

“No, no, I insist. I’d actually like to speak with you about something.”

 

Debbie blinked. She’d never heard this tone of voice from Rose before. “Okay.”

 

As Debbie hoisted herself up and onto the counter, Rose sighed and continued washing a plate as she spoke. “Deborah, I don’t think your wife is doing as well as she says she is.”

 

Debbie had to suppress a laugh. “She’s not my wife yet, Rose.”

 

“Oh, hush. You’ve been practically married for decades now.”

 

“It does feel that way sometimes.”

 

“So how have you not noticed that she’s spiraling?”

 

Debbie, who had been rubbing a knot in her shoulder and thinking about the way Lou would look in her wedding tux, froze. “I’m sorry?”

 

“She’s very clearly unwell.” Rose was nodding nervously, but nothing in her voice said she was uncertain about the words coming out of her mouth.

 

“She’s still adjusting to being home, Rose, I wouldn’t say that constitutes _spiraling_ – ”

 

“Deborah, I’ve been _watching her._ Her mood has been a constantly shifting up and down. She shakes when she so much as lifts a hand. She didn’t bother _looking_ at anyone tonight, besides you. Not even you, actually. She was just staring out the window.” Rose shook her head. “She’s not herself.”

 

“She’s herself.” _I know my Lou like the back of my hand. She’s herself. She **has** to be herself, because if she’s not, then what does that say about me?_

 

“Do you know who she reminds me of currently?”

 

“Who?”

 

“ _Me_ , Debbie. Me when I was fifteen years old and would stay holed up in my room for hours on end, sketching when the mood struck, but mostly wringing my hands raw and picking at the skin around my fingernails until they bled. My mum wanted to cart me off to the hospital. She didn’t, luckily, but only because I finally started talking to someone.”

 

“Who?”

 

“A therapist.”

 

Debbie wanted to grab Rose by her throat. “ _Why_ is everyone so insistent that she needs _help_? She’s – she’s processing everything, she told me she wants to have time for herself. And you _know_ her! Don’t you think she’d ask for help if she needed it? Don’t you think she’d tell _me_?”

 

Rose’s voice remained steady. “It’s not easy to ask for help.”

 

“Lou is strong. Lou is going to be just fine, but thanks for your concern.” Debbie couldn’t help the venom that dripped from her words.

 

“Being strong can only get you so far,” Rose said simply. “And it must be difficult. Having to watch her go through this.” She peered at Debbie over her glasses, one eyebrow raised.

 

“Well. Thanks for the advice, Rose. You can go now.”

 

Rose opened her mouth, then closed it again just as quickly. If the coldness of Debbie’s response had hit her at all, Rose didn’t show it. “Okay.” Putting the last of the dishes on the drying rack, Rose wandered back to the couch to swing her Givenchy coat around her shoulders. Before leaving, she walked up to Debbie once more, brushing something Debbie couldn’t see off the front of the coat.

 

“For the record,” she started, “it’s not just Lou I’m worried about.”

 

And just like that, Rose was gone.

 

If Debbie hadn’t been so lost in thought, she would have heard the creek of the bed, the shuffling of Lou’s feet coming down the hallway towards the bathroom.

 

She would have seen Lou hang back once she heard what exactly Debbie and Rose were discussing.

 

She would have seen the look on Lou’s face.

 

But she didn’t.

 

So Lou turned around and went right back to bed.

 

*

 

Debbie couldn’t bring herself to try and sleep after her conversation with Rose.

 

She’d made a cup of tea to ease her mind and slow her pounding heart, but after the first few sips didn’t seem to help, Debbie abandoned it and chose instead to bite her nails down to the nub, a habit she thought she’d kicked at the age of twelve.

 

_Lou is **okay.**_

****

_Lou is **fine.**_

****

She repeated the sentences in her head like a mantra, willing them to be true.

 

They _were_ true.

 

Debbie would make _sure_ they were true.

 

“ _It’s not just Lou I’m worried about._ ”

 

What the hell did Rose mean by _that_?

 

It wasn’t about Debbie right now.

 

Debbie made a promise to herself that it would _never_ be about her, not while Lou was healing.

 

Maybe Rose just needed to mind her own damn business.

 

A delicate cough came from behind her, and Debbie could see that the bathroom light was on.

 

Lou was wearing a pajama set that definitely did not belong to her, but it made Debbie smile nonetheless. She looked good in silk. The bathroom sink was littered with makeup wipes as Lou screwed the top back onto her container of moisturizer.

 

“You look radiant.”

 

Their eyes met in the mirror and Lou smiled as she started to dab her face with rosewater toner.

 

“No one looks radiant at 3:20 in the morning, honey.”

 

“You do. You glow.” Debbie wrapped her arms around Lou’s waist. “Like an angel. My own, personal angel designed just for me.”

 

“A lesbian Gabriel, if you will.”

 

“Your words, not mine.”

 

Lou leaned back into Debbie’s embrace, letting her fiancé settle her head on Lou’s shoulder. “You never came to bed.”

 

“Couldn’t sleep.”

 

“Usually, laying down in a _bed_ alleviates that. Especially when you’re next to your almost-wife.”

 

“My almost-wife, huh? Think I’ll start using that.”

 

“Not unless I trademark it. Then it’ll just be another one of the things of mine you’ve stolen over the years.”

 

“And what else is on that list, pray tell?”

 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Lou slid out of Debbie’s embrace to press some perfume to her pulse points. “My wallet. Keys. Several jackets.” Lou rolled her eyes. “My heart.”

 

“Louann Miller, don’t you _ever_ laugh at me for being sentimental ever again.” When Lou let out a snort, Debbie felt her heart leap. _This_ was her girl. “You going back to bed, then?”

 

“Depends. You gonna _be there_ this time?”

 

Debbie responded by tossing back the covers and dramatically falling onto the sheets, to which Lou rolled her eyes again. “Cheeky bitch.”

 

Once the light was off and their arms were around each other, Debbie spoke again.

 

“You know what really frustrates me about you?”

 

“I really don’t know what’s about to come out of your mouth, and it’s a tad frightening.”

 

“You have flawless skin.”

 

“ _What?_ ”

 

“You do. You’re so pretty, it’s unbelievably annoying.”

 

“Someone’s clearly tired.”

 

“No, see, that’s the thing, Lou, I’m _not._ Talk to me.” Debbie snuggled in a little closer. “Tell me something I don’t know about you.”

 

Lou sighed. “Mmmmmmmmmm okay. Fell out of a tree when I was nine.”

 

“And you have a scar from your ribcage to your hip to prove it. Try again.”

 

“...alright, as of last year, I’ve read _Anna Karenina_ a total of – ”

 

“Total of 15 times.”

 

“14, actually. Smartass.”

 

“14. Close enough,” Debbie shook her head. “I knew that one, too. God, you’re _bad_ at this, next you’ll be trying to tell me you’re a natural blonde.”

 

“I’m thinking about selling the club.”

 

Debbie pulled back. “What?”

 

Lou nodded. “Got a couple guys interested. It’s a smart business decision, really. Prime real estate.”

 

“But it’s the _club._ ”

 

“So?”

 

“You love the club! You wanted the club for years!”

 

“Deb, it’s just a building. It’s not that important.”

 

“But it _used_ to be.” Lou’s brow furrowed; apparently, the look on Debbie’s face was more concerning than she originally thought. “I’m sorry, I’m just confused.”

 

“There’s literally nothing to be confused about, honey. I’d rather be here than working all the time. I want to spend more time with you.”

 

It was a nice sentiment, but it wasn’t helping. “You aren’t playing music anymore. You’re selling the club. Suffice it to say, I’m starting to wonder if you’re the same woman I proposed to.”

 

Debbie regretted it as soon as it left her mouth. It came out much, _much_ harsher than she had intended.

 

“Oh.”

 

“Lou, baby, I didn’t mean it like _that_ – ”

 

“If you don’t think we should get married, just tell me.”

 

“ _Lou_ – ”

 

“Don’t let me hold you back from doing whatever it is you’re going to do.” Lou was fighting her, attempting to squirm out of Debbie’s grasp and roll over, but Debbie refused to let her.

 

“Lou, _stop._ You really think I don’t want to marry you? God, Lou, I would marry you _tomorrow_ if that’s what you wanted.”

 

“Is it what _you_ want?”

 

“Of _course_  it is _._ I’m just trying to understand your thought process here.”

 

“Whatever. It’s fine. I’m tired.” Lou took hold of Debbie’s hand and brought Debbie’s knuckles to her lips. She looked even more exhausted than she had before. “I love you, honey. Let’s try to get some sleep, yeah?”

 

At that moment, it occurred to Debbie that that must have been what Rose was referring to. The mood swings.

 

Debbie pressed a series of kisses into Lou’s hair before staring down at her, taking note of the way Lou’s body wrapped around her own.

 

They’d have to talk about this.

 

Maybe tomorrow.

 

*

 

In the week leading up to Daphne’s movie premiere, the loft seemed to buzz with energy. They hadn’t been this _busy_ since the Toussaint, thought Debbie to herself.

 

Rose was, once again, designing a dress for Daphne; fortunately, this particular dress came with a lot less stakes. It was blue with a white lace overlay and it hung off Daphne’s shoulders beautifully. Rose wouldn’t divulge what kind of material she had used, but when Daphne twirled around, it sparkled and shone and billowed out around her.

 

“Like Cinderella on acid,” Constance noted in wonder.

 

When Rose turned to her and offered to create something special for her as well for the premiere, Constance blew a gigantic bubble gum bubble and did some sort of trick off the stairs with her skateboard, much to Lou’s chagrin.

 

“Nah. I’m good, fam.”

 

Rose’s eyes flickered with concern. “But...what will you _wear_ , dear?”

 

Constance shrugged. “I’ll figure something out.”

 

Debbie swore Rose was going to faint.

 

But as the group sat around the new flat screen Amita had dragged into the loft a few months prior, Nine streaming the red carpet premiere from her laptop, they all had to admit, Constance looked _good_.

 

She was in a traditional tux, the only difference being the corset she wore instead of a dress shirt, glittery and the same shade of blue as Daphne’s gown. Ocean blue, if you asked Debbie.

 

“Not everything’s about you, love,” Lou murmured into her ear, to which Debbie gave her a playful shove in response.

 

No matter how many times Debbie told Lou how positive she was of their future, how set and certain she was about wanting to marry her, something in Lou’s eyes said she didn’t believe her. Was she scared? Scared of _what_? Debbie didn’t know. Debbie _wanted_ to know, so, so badly.

 

Lou hadn’t really spoken to her for almost two days after that night in bed. She was cordial, but she was short with her. Something was up. Lou seemed to be upset for no real reason at all. But Debbie still couldn’t bring herself to press the issue. Lou could do that herself if she so chose to.

 

Even now, cuddled on the couch, there was something between them that just felt _off_. The other four women in the loft could sense it, too.

 

But that wasn’t important right now.

 

Right now, all that mattered was making sure Constance kept her mouth shut and, for the love of God, _smiled._

Debbie had insisted on giving her an earpiece in order to stay at least _somewhat_ connected to what was going on, but in typical Constance fashion, she had insisted on “going commando” and ripped the earpiece off as soon as the limo pulled up to the TCL Chinese Theatre.

 

Luckily, she hadn’t noticed the mic Lou had slipped onto her corset.

 

Debbie leaned forward and watched as Constance and Daphne posed, Daphne’s face stone still as the cameras flashed. Constance looked a little overwhelmed and the crew let out a simultaneous hum of enjoyment and relief when Daphne snaked a hand around Constance’s waist and squeezed.

 

“This is going surprisingly okay,” Amita noted.

 

“So far,” mumbled Debbie. Lou squeezed Debbie’s bouncing knee.

 

“The real test is going to be how she talks to the press...” Tammy’s eyes darted across the screen. “There’s a lot of people there.”

 

“She’ll get noticed though, right? Doesn’t she have a lot of subscribers on YouTube?”

 

Nine-Ball nodded. “Decent amount. Solid 300K.”

 

Rose wrung her hands. “Dear Lord, please give us strength.”

 

After the initial photo call, Daphne and Constance made their way towards the crowd of reporters. Nine pressed a few buttons, the cameras switched, and they were all suddenly far closer to Daphne Kluger’s cleavage than they had ever wanted to be.

 

Constance was the first to speak, switching between microphones as the press swarmed them.

 

“Hey, what up y’all, my name’s Horatio, I’m her butler,” Constance said, with a nod to Daphne.

 

The six women back at the loft groaned.

 

Daphne laughed, high and tinny. “She’s obviously not my butler. My butler’s name is Craig.”

 

“Dude, you actually _have_ a butler?”

 

“Of course I have a butler, could you just _shut up_?” Daphne was talking through her teeth.

 

“His name is _Craig_? What kinda white-ass name is _Craig_?”

 

“Oh my God,” Debbie settled her head in her hands.

 

“Hey, don’t I know you?” A reporter with a toothpick in his mouth bit his lip as he looked Constance up and down. “Aren’t you a YouTuber?”

 

“Uh...I mean – okay, first of all, my eyes are up here, buddy.” Constance briefly glanced at Daphne nervously, then cleared her throat. “And uh, yeah, that’s me. I guess I didn’t...consider that, when I said I wanted to come. That, uh, people like, know me and shit.”

 

Debbie cringed as Constance was bleeped out. “Please just tell me when this is over.”

 

“It’s really not that bad, honey.”

 

“Don’t jinx it!”

 

After some initial apprehension, Constance relaxed into her place in front of the camera and began answering questions calmly, much to everyone’s shock and comfort. Judging by the way she was grinning, Constance was actually starting to enjoy herself. They were just about to go into the theatre when there was a tug on Daphne’s arm from a petite blonde woman with honey highlights and a fake tan. Daphne turned with a smile and tilted her head to the side.

 

“Hi, Kelsey Wright from ET. I just wanted to ask you about that Twitter post.”

 

Daphne batted her long eyelashes, very game. “And what Twitter post would that be?”

 

“The one about the DeLucci family. Obviously.”

 

Debbie’s blood ran cold.

 

Daphne set her jaw and tossed her hair back before signaling to her publicist that everything was okay. “Of course. What would you like to know?”

 

Daphne’s hands were on her hips and Constance slid her arm into one the empty spaces around Daphne, squeezing Daphne’s bicep just a little too tightly.

 

“Uh, Nine?” Tammy smacked Nine-Ball’s shoulder, keeping her eyes glued to the screen. “Can you call her? Daphne, I mean?”

 

Rose shook her head. “Her phone is in her clutch, and her clutch is with her publicist.”

 

“Can you call the _publicist?_ ”

 

“And say what? I can’t just call ‘em myself, that’s not how hacking works!”

 

Debbie stared at Nine. She’d never heard her sound so panicked before.

 

“Well, for starters,” continued Kelsey, glancing down at her tiny notepad, “why the sudden interest? Rather odd news item to speak out on.”

 

“Why _shouldn’t_ I have been interested? Just because I’m one of the most famous women in the world doesn’t mean I can’t get involved in issues outside of the entertainment world.”

 

“Your response was pretty harsh.”

 

“I said _two words._ ”

 

“Still, it felt like there was a personal connection between the situation and your response, care to comment on that?”

 

Maybe it was the already sky-high stakes of the night or maybe it was the way the reporter was smirking, but Daphne’s breath caught in her throat as her eyes gleamed. “Actually, _Kelsey_ , I _would_ like to comment on that.”

 

Constance looked like she was going to throw up.

 

“Those people _ruined lives_ and I’ve seen it up close and personal. So has she,” Daphne gestured to Constance, “and I’m not going to apologize for what I said. I could have said a lot more, that’s for damn sure.”

 

“Please don’t,” Constance whimpered.

 

“They deserve to be in prison. They deserve a lot more than that. She got shot.” Daphne pointed to Constance’s arm. “And yeah, she’s okay now, but my other friends aren't!” Constance was once again swarmed with reporters but she kept her eyes glued to Daphne in horror.

 

“So what you’re saying is that you know some of the victims?”

 

Daphne rolled her eyes and couldn’t keep the words from tumbling out of her mouth. “ _Yes,_ genius, I know the victims. One of my best friends got really hurt and she hasn’t been the same since. She’s _fucked up._ She’s never going to _not_ be fucked up because of what those assholes did to her. And I don’t give a _fuck_ about how you idiots are going to twist this, it’s the truth. I said good riddance, and I meant it.”

 

“Daphne, _stop!_ ” Constance yanked her away before she had a chance to say anything more.

 

The loft was dead silent.

 

Daphne was ignoring her manager, who was yelling at her as security pushed them through the crowd, in favor of listening to Constance: “What the _fuck_ , dude?”

 

“Oh, shut up. I had to say _something_.”

 

“No! You really didn’t! Ever heard of ‘no comment’?”

 

“I didn’t name names or anything!”

 

“Yeah, but you came really close!”

 

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter, there’ll be media fallout or some shit and then it’ll be over in two weeks.”

 

“For you, maybe! What about moms? Or Tammy? What about _me_ , why the fuck did you bring _me_ up?”

 

“I was trying to protect everyone. You could just say thank you.”

 

“Know what? I’m out. This was real fun. But I’m gonna go, and you should probably call Rose or Deb or someone, ‘cause you _know_ they were all watching.”

 

“What? Are you sure they – ”

 

Constance must have adjusted her suit jacket because the microphone cut out before they could hear Daphne’s reply.

 

“So...this is bad. Right? This is really bad?” Amita started pacing.

 

“It’s not _good_ ,” Nine offered.

 

“Lou? Are you alright, love?” Rose called towards Lou, who had gotten up a few minutes ago and was now putting away some of the dishes that were still on the drying rack from a week prior. Lou ignored her.

 

“What do you need, Deb? What can we do?” Tammy crouched down at Debbie’s feet, one hand on the edge of the couch, the other on Debbie’s thigh. Debbie’s phone vibrated.

 

Daphne.

 

Great.

 

“Know what, Tam? I don’t have a _fucking_ clue.” Fingers hovering over the screen of her iPhone, Debbie scooped it up and handed it to Tammy. “Answer this, I guess.”

 

“Deb, you know I can’t do that.”

 

“Yeah? Why not?”

 

“It’s not my place.”

 

“Is _anything_ your place anymore, Tammy? ‘Cause it seems to me that I’ve been doing a whole lot of shit by myself these past few weeks.”

 

“ _What_? I’m confused, Deb. You want help, then you don’t want help. Make up your mind! The six of us can only do so much!”

 

Debbie’s voice got as close to a growl as she’d ever heard. “Don’t you _dare_ yell at me.”

 

Tammy opened her mouth to respond but was cut short by the sound of shattering glass.

 

Five pairs of eyes fell on Lou, who was staring at her hands, and the broken teacup that lay in pieces on the counter.

 

Debbie rushed to her side. “Hey. Hey, baby, are you okay? What happened?”

 

Even under the running water in the sink, Debbie could see the blood trickling out of Lou’s palm.

 

Debbie reached under the sink and pulled out the first aid kit. Wrapping some gauze around her hand and setting the kit down, she tugged on Lou’s wrist. “Let me see.”

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“Lou, I need to see how deep that cut is, come on, baby – ”

 

Lou’s voice was tight. “Deborah, don’t coddle me – ”

 

“I’m not coddling you, I – ”

 

“I _said_ I’m fine!” Lou’s hands flew up towards her temples, coming dangerously close to Debbie’s face in the process. A few water droplets landed on Debbie’s cheeks.

 

The only thing anyone could hear was the sound of the running water.

 

As they stared at each other, all Debbie could see was the pure terror reflected in Lou’s eyes as her chin began to quiver.

 

She reached one hand out towards Debbie’s face. “Did I – ”

 

“No, no, baby, you didn’t. You didn’t hit me. You didn’t hit me, Lou, you didn’t.” Debbie’s own hands covered Lou’s as she kissed her palm and her fingers, not even remotely caring about the blood and the coppery taste in her mouth.

 

Lou pulled her hand away and shook her head before hurrying into the bathroom, Tammy hot on her heels after gesturing to Amita, Rose, and Nine, barely making it in before the door slammed shut.

 

Nine quickly gathered her tech gear together and exited the loft with Amita. Debbie, frozen in her spot by the sink, barely registered Rose coming towards her until she was right in front of her. A few tears ran down Rose’s cheeks as she slid a piece of paper into Debbie’s hands, then she was out the door as well.

 

Debbie unfolded the slip. On it was a name and a phone number.

 

_Dr. Georgia Zakarian._

Debbie placed the paper in her back pocket.

 

*

 

After about twenty-five minutes, Tammy emerged from Lou and Debbie’s room, tear-stained and puffy.

 

Tying the belt of her coat, Tammy grabbed Debbie’s hands before glancing at the clock. “Try to get some sleep now. We can talk tomorrow. I got her into bed. She’s waiting for you.”

 

Tammy hugged Debbie tight. “We’ll fix this, Deb, I promise,” she whispered. “I promise.”

 

Debbie undressed, slowly and meticulously, keeping her eyes locked on Lou, who hadn’t bothered to take her makeup off. After quite literally crawling into bed so as not to disturb her even more, Debbie took Lou’s face in her hands and kissed the tip of her nose. Lou laid her head in the crook of Debbie’s neck and sighed.

 

Her words came out quiet and low and distant.

 

“I think I’m losing my mind.”

 

Debbie wanted to scream.

 

She also wanted to fold Lou into a ball and keep her in the pocket of her coat, where she’d be warm and loved, where no one would ever get to her, no one would hurt her, or touch her, or make her feel like anything less than the intelligent, kind, beautiful woman Debbie fell in love with.

 

Instead, she blurted out, “Remember what we talked about over breakfast a few months ago?”

 

“...no?”

 

“Let’s get out of here. Take a vacation. Just us.”

 

Lou blinked. “Where?”

 

“Wherever you want. Preferably out of the country.”

 

“Honey,” Lou pushed herself up onto her elbows, “I would go anywhere with you.”

 

“I’m serious. Let’s do it. Tomorrow.”

 

“...okay.”

 

“Get our bags packed in the morning. Book a flight.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Say something besides okay, I dare you.”

 

“What will we tell the others?”

 

Debbie rolled onto her side. “Nothing. That we wanted to go. That we deserve a break.”

 

“...okay.”

 

“ _Lou_.”

 

“Deb, it sounds great. I’d love to.” Lou kissed her cheek. “But right now, I’d love to sleep.”

 

“How’s your hand?”

 

“It was just a little cut. I’ll live.”

 

“Good.” Debbie pressed cold hands to Lou’s hips. “Because we have a plane to catch.”

 

As they fell asleep, Debbie couldn’t help but think about the future and whatever lay ahead for them.

 

She tried to ignore the doubts creeping into the back of her mind.

 

And as she held on to Lou, she promised her that she would never let her go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise you won't have to wait as long for chapter 7! Thanks for sticking around with me, hope you enjoyed <3
> 
> again, every single comment is loved and appreciated and if you leave a comment, i'll send you not one or two but THREE HUGS!!!!! since i've been gone so long, you deserve three
> 
> love y'all <3


End file.
